Sister and Brother
by Snuffleupagus
Summary: Conversations between Lex and his sister, Lilly. First Season AU.
1. Pilot and Metamorphosis

**Pilot**

"Hello?"

"Bumpy? Are you okay? What happened? And why the *hell* haven't you called me yet?

"Lilly-""

"Dad just _waltzes_ in the fucking door and says, 'Your brother was in an accident today,' and he did it in that way that makes it sound like I'm the only one in this house who's related to you again, and I really hate hearing about stuff from him, and you should have called me."

"Breathe."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry I didn't call. It just happened this afternoon. And I'm fine."

"How's the car?"

"Sitting in one of the garages."

"So it's okay?"

"The opposite of that. It's been ripped apart."

"Wow. What happened?"

"I'm not sure. I can't remember anything except waking up with my head on a rock and one of the locals dripping water all over me."

"You got rescued?"

"In the most heroic way possible."

"Wait a minute. Dripping water--you drove off a bridge?"

"And Dad's worried that public school will dull your intellectual capacities."

"I'm not in public school. I'm just not at boarding school. You drove off a bridge?"

"At about sixty miles an hour."

"On your second day there. Pretty impressive."

"It was your fault, actually."

"This ought to be funny."

"You called me. I was taking the phone out of my pocket, and I lost control of the car. Boom."

"Oh, whatever. Talking on a cell phone in cars is illegal in some states, you know."

"So you were encouraging me to break the law?"

"What do you know?" _I'm_ a bad influence on _you_, for once."

"Heh. How's Dad taking it?"

"The accident? I think he's angry. I can't tell. But… I asked him if that meant you were coming home in disgrace, or at least coming home, and he looked at me and gave this laugh and started lecturing me on the value of learning from your mistakes. In other words, you're still stuck out there. Sorry."

"I didn't really expect anything else."

"Yeah, you did. Lex… you didn't do it… on purpose. Did you? Because that's just a bad idea."

"No. Believe it or not, I haven't gotten quite that desperate for fatherly affection."

"I'm sorry. It's not because he doesn't want you here. I don't think. He's worried about you."

"Really. Worried about me before or after I wrecked a Porsche and nearly killed a pedestrian?"

"Before. And you've got to tell me more about the dripping local pedestrian later."

"Why's he worried?"

"Because you rely too much on your gut feelings to be a good businessman. You get excited about things, then you lose interest, and you need to learn discipline and basic managing skills before you can start working with him."

"Is Dad standing there with cue cards?"

"Heh. No. I asked him why he was making you go a few days ago, and that's what he told me."

"A straight answer? From Dad?"

"He gives me straight answers. Remember, I don't mock him."

"Right."

"Anyway, it looks like you're going to have to deal with the crap factory. So tell me about your hero."

"Clark? He's… a nice kid who pulled me out of the car and saved my life. I'm still a little…"

"Freaked?"

"Unsettled. I'm sure I had a more sophisticated vocabulary at seventeen."

"And that was thanks to whom? I was the one who bought you the word-of-the- day calendar for Christmas."

"'For the man who has everything.'"

"Shut up. You loved it."

"It changed my life."

"I hate you."

"I now know what 'phrenology' means."

"Well I don't, but I'm going to do it to you if you don't stop making fun of me."

"It's a noun, not a verb."

"You were talking about the nice kid? Is he cute?"

"You can't possibly have worked through everyone in Metropolis already."

"I haven't worked through anyone in Metropolis. I'm not the party girl you were; give me a book and TiVo and I'd never leave the house."

"You'd never leave your room. And did you just call me a party girl?"

"I'd still have to eat. And pee. You keep diverting me off the subject of Charles."

"Clark."

"Yeah. So, he saved your life. Pretty cool."

"Just the descriptive phrase I had in mind."

"So are you going to get him a present?"

"That's the standard thing now?"

"Well, Billy Zane gave Leonardo DiCaprio—"

"I swear to God, if you're about to quote anything from 'Titanic,' I'm not coming home for the Halloween party. You watched that movie at a far-too- impressionable age."

"Sorry. Yes, it's the standard thing. You should give him a new tractor."

"You don't even know if he's a farmer."

"Of course he's a farmer, he's living in Smallville."

"Lilly—"

"Do they even _have_ other professions out there? Like, there's the guy who runs the general store, and the mechanic, and the banjo player, and the rest of them all herd cows and shuck corn and press apples."

"And run my plant."

"Don't let Dad hear you call it yours."

"They're not all slack-jawed yokels."

"My apologies. So what _does_ this Clark do for a living?"

"He goes to school. He's a year or two younger than you."

"Ooh, and cute?"

"We've had this conversation before. I will not risk my masculinity by declaring another man cute, or handsome, or in any way attractive. You may deduce his attractive qualities for yourself if you ever come down here and meet him."

"And with the books and the TiVo, that's so likely to happen."

"Your own fault for being a hermit."

"So he's cute."

"No comment."

"Meaning yes. Okay. What do his parents do?"

"All right, so some people _do_ herd corn and shuck cows or whatever—"

"Hah! Farmers! Yes, I win I win I win. You owe me--damn, we didn't bet on anything, but you still owe me. They're farmers, with the cows and the corn and the plaid and the gingham!"

"I didn't notice any gingham."

"Buy him a truck."

"A truck."

"Well, it's manly and cool, and it'll be useful around the farm, and you can obviously afford it, and it'll show him that you're not all distant and bitchy like your father."

"Bitchy would be the last adjective I'd use to describe Dad."

"You haven't lived with him for a long time."

Silence. "So. A truck."

"Yeah. Give me a minute… okay, the best and most expensive out there is a Ford F-150. You could get it all decked out by tomorrow, probably, if you throw enough money at the dealers. CD/tape player, heated seats, racing stripes, airbags, everything."

"Please tell me you didn't have all that information in your head."

"Well, I _am_ the one who buys your cars. But no. I'm online. Look, I've got to go; it's almost time for _The Daily Show_. Call Hans tomorrow; he'll get the truck for you by tomorrow afternoon. You've still got his number?"

"I had to call him earlier today."

"Right. Poor Speed Racer."

"Did you name the car, or did I?"

"I did. Duh. Do you _watch_ any cartoons? Besides _Animaniacs_?"

"_Pinky and the Brain_."

"What do you want to do tonight, Brain?"

"Same thing we do every night, Pinky. Try to take over the world!"

"G'night. Love you."

"You, too."

****

**Metamorphosis**

"Hello?"

"Your truck idea didn't pan out."

"Okay, you know I don't have caller ID. And yet every time you call me, you just start out conversations like we're in the middle of one already. It freaks me out."

"My apologies. I'd hate to freak you out."

"Shut up. Why didn't the truck idea pan out?"

"He didn't want it."

"He didn't _want_ it? Is he human?"

"Presumably."

"Male?"

"Definitely."

"And a farmer?"

"I've seen the produce."

"So what's the--wait a minute. 'Definitely'? Lex—"

"Lilly--"

"Don't go getting yourself a jailbait boyfriend. Dad sent you there to keep you *out* of trouble."

"My intentions toward Clark are purely--"

"Impure. I know that tone."

"No, you don't."

"You get this little raspy thing whenever you have a crush. You got it when you were head over heels for Victoria. Who I still think was a drag queen."

"Have you been visiting that 'Gay or European' website again?"

"No. Yes. Don't do this. He's what, fourteen?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"A freshman in high school, anyway. High. School. Lookee, no touchee."

"Immortal words of wisdom."

"There are laws. Especially in Kansas."

"Weren't we talking about the truck? And about how your idea was wrong?"

"We were on a tangent."

"How was what we were talking about related to trucks?"

"Trucks have beds? I don't know. Why didn't he like it?"

"He liked it fine. His father didn't want him owning anything given to him by a member of the Luthor family."

"What did Dad do?"

"Raped and pillaged all that was good and right in Smallville, apparently."

"What does that have to do with the price of potatoes in Pittsburgh?"

"The price of—"

"I'm boning up on colloquialisms and quaint sayings of the American Midwest. If you do come home for Halloween, I want to be able to understand you when you're saying things like 'y'all'."

"There's not much risk of that happening."

"Come on. 'Y'all'? Great phrase. Signifying a second person plural, something the English language lacks in its more formal dialect."

"You're trying to distract me from the fact that you were wrong."

"Damn, my evil plan has been discovered. How was I supposed to know his father was a bigot?"

"Humph."

"What?"

"Nothing… it's just. Speaking of bigots."

"What about them?"

"I found Clark tied to a post in the middle of a cornfield last night, stripped down to his boxers with an 'S' painted on his chest."

"I'm not your dream therapist, Lex."

"I'm serious. This really happened."

"You're kidding."

"No."

"Jesus."

"Faintly reminiscent, yes."

"Is he all right?"

"Apparently. I saw him this morning. A little taciturn."

"That's normal, even if he wasn't crucified."

"You don't know Clark."

"Nor, may I remind you, do you. Who strung him up?"

"Mm?"

"Who did it?"

"Not sure. Hey, do you know anything about gemstones?"

"Other than that they're pretty? Nope. Why?"

"Clark was wearing this… necklace. He dropped it after I untied him. It looks a little like an emerald, but it's… off, somehow."

"You have it with you?"

"In my hand right now."

"Go get it appraised."

"It's not mine to appraise."

"When has that ever stopped you? Or just give it back to Clark."

"Somehow, I don't think it belongs to him."

"Really. What makes you think that?"

"It's a woman's piece of jewelry."

"Maybe Clark wanted to feel pretty. You said he just ran off; how long was he tied to the pole?"

"I don't know. He looked pretty bad, but as soon as I untied him, he seemed fine."

"Smallville certainly puts the strap back in strapping, doesn't it? Must be all the corn they eat."

"Maybe. Anyway."

"Have fun figuring out The Affair of the Necklace. Hey, have you seen Nasty Nell yet?"

"Lilly."

"Sorry. Have you seen Nell, that dispenser of sweetness and light, yet?"

"This morning. She said to say hi."

"Say 'You're a bloodsucking fiend' back for me, will you? Hey, maybe it's her necklace."

"You think Nell strings pubescent boys up in cornfields?"

"Well, if she doesn't have TiVo—"

"She's probably got cable, at least."

"You never know. There's not much to do in a small town on weekends."

"Except…"

"What?"

"Football."

"They have a farm team, or something?"

"High school. You know, I think I have an idea."

"Ooh, share."

"I've got to go."

"Ooh, don't share."

"I'll explain later. Gotta go."

"I hate you."

"Me, too."


	2. Hothead

1 Hothead  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Did you figure out who did it?"  
  
"Now who's starting conversations halfway through?"  
  
"This is your cell. You've got Caller ID."  
  
"It's the principle of the thing that offends me. You take me to task for certain behavior, then you subject me to that same—"  
  
"Augh! Did you figure out who strung up Clark or not?"  
  
"Nell's niece's boyfriend."  
  
"Potters. They're nothing but trouble. Nell's got a niece? And her boyfriend doesn't like Clark?"  
  
"Clark's in love with her."  
  
"The niece."  
  
"Lana. He has a habit of gazing longingly at her from afar, heaving heavy sighs."  
  
"God help me from a high school boy in love."  
  
"That was going to be my line."  
  
"I'm always one step ahead of you."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Are you jealous?"  
  
"Lena Lillian Luthor, the minute I come to Metropolis for that conference, you're in trouble."  
  
"Oh, God. I forgot to warn you. The Three Stooges are heading down in a few days. Something about projections and budgets and crap."  
  
"How is it that you hear about these things before I do?"  
  
"Because I'm best buds with Dad's secretary. And she still remembers that charming young man who would follow his father around the office, sorting files and stapling things when Mr. Luthor was in a meeting."  
  
"Spying on my behalf. I'm touched."  
  
"In the head. Hey, I looked up 'phrenology.'"  
  
"And?"  
  
"I kept thinking it was spelled with an 'f', so it took me a while."  
  
"Maybe public school isn't such a good idea, Lilly."  
  
"It's *not* a public school, and I'm doing just fine. P-H-I-N-E fine."  
  
"Heh. So Dominic and the gang are coming down? I'll cancel the meeting tomorrow. It's a waste of time."  
  
"Do you know something I don't?"  
  
"Any number of things. They're going to talk about the projections for the plant; it's gotten more productive, but the market is falling right now and they probably want me to cut my budget until the market comes back."  
  
"Huh. Will you?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"I'm not even going to ask. Thank God Dad doesn't want me to go into business, is all I can say."  
  
"You have the brains for it."  
  
"Not the patience. And besides, I already have my trust fund. And you. I'm quite happy living off of your success for the rest of my life, hosting stupid cocktail parties and buying boats."  
  
"You hate boats."  
  
"I never said I was going to board them. Just buy them Lots. Maybe a cruise ship. Those probably don't rock as much as the little yacht things."  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"So, wait a minute. Lana the niece. Her boyfriend tied Clark to a pole because Clark likes his girlfriend?"  
  
"That seems to be about it."  
  
"Does Lana like Clark?"  
  
"I don't think she 'like likes' him. But I can always pass her a note during Social Studies."  
  
"Oh, ha, I get it. Funny. I meant, is he jealous or was Clark just convenient?"  
  
"Not sure. I think it was part of some… tradition that they have here."  
  
"Some tradition."  
  
"No. That night was the high school homecoming game. I'm guessing that it was some sort of ritual they go through. Smallville Crows. 'S' for 'Scarecrow,' maybe. Do you remember, when I told you about the meteor storm?"  
  
"Yeah. Oh, my God—"  
  
"Right. The guy in the cornfield. Who I thought I saw, which is why I went into that cornfield and found Clark."  
  
"Weird. I completely forgot about that kid. You think—God, you think they do that every *year*?"  
  
"I certainly hope it's not every game."  
  
"Get out of there now, Lex."  
  
"I don't think they'll come after me."  
  
"They came after Clark."  
  
"He's resilient. By the way. I gave him back the necklace."  
  
"It was his?"  
  
"Lana's. The boyfriend must have put it on him as a joke. Do you know, Clark rescued him the other day?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Day after the boyfriend strung him up. There was another car accident. Clark pulled him out."  
  
"So, besides the general store guy, the mechanic, and the banjo player, there's also the town out-of-cars-puller."  
  
"Your grammar is appalling."  
  
"Well, instead of studying, I'm talking to you. Which is an education in and of itself. So if it was Lana's necklace, why did you give it to Clark?"  
  
"Because apparently it has sentimental value. She gave it to her boyfriend for good luck."  
  
"How do you know all this?"  
  
"Went to visit her the other day. She rides better than you do."  
  
"Quadriplegics ride better than I do. So she gave it to the boyfriend. You want Clark to tell her what happened?"  
  
"She'll dump the boyfriend like a bad habit, Clark will sweep her into his arms—"  
  
"And you'll sit forlornly on the sidelines. Get a hobby. Raise fish, or bonsai trees. This 'getting Clark his heart's desire' thing isn't healthy."  
  
"I've taken up fencing."  
  
"And you suck at it."  
  
"A little more support wouldn't be entirely out of order."  
  
"So you're really going to try to set Clark up by making him tell Lana what happened? He's going to sound like a wuss."  
  
"He's going to sound honest."  
  
"I swear, you never went to high school. Honesty doesn't matter. You have to be as stoic as possible. Meaning no admittance of anything bad happening to you. Clark isn't going to tell her. And he's not going to just hand her the necklace."  
  
"You don't even know him."  
  
"But I know you, and the way you think isn't the way most people think. Besides, the guy who rescues somebody who crucified him isn't going to go behind that somebody's back to steal that somebody's girlfriend."  
  
"Don't be so sure."  
  
"You can't change people's natures, Lex. He'll leave it in her locker or in her mailbox. Maybe he'll put a little note that says 'Not from your boyfriend,' or something, but that's about it."  
  
"Humph. Okay, I'm at the plant now, so I've got to go."  
  
"Wait, you've been talking to me while you've been *driving?*"  
  
"Yes. Why?"  
  
"Oh, my God. I will kill you and then beat you to death. Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
*  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey. What did you do?"  
  
"I didn't do anything."  
  
"Because Dad's going back to Smallville right now."  
  
"Ah. Well, I might have done something."  
  
"You just really enjoy pissing him off. Anyway. He's on his way."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"So, how's Clark doing?"  
  
"Fine. I saw him yesterday."  
  
"Really? Anything unusual about him?"  
  
"All right. What did you find out?"  
  
"Yay! Hee, hee. I hired a private detective to follow him around and take pictures. He's on the *football team*?"  
  
"It's a recent thing."  
  
"He looks good in a jersey. No wonder you're remaining manfully silent about his looks. Don't cut yourself on those cheekbones."  
  
"Manfully silent, over here."  
  
"I'll bet you are. Anyway, I approve of any and all relationships you may engage with Mr. Underage Adonis. He's worth whatever jail time you get."  
  
"Now you're just mocking me."  
  
"Yep."  
  
"The limo just pulled up. I'd better go. Thanks for the warning."  
  
"No problem. Love you."  
  
"You, too." 


	3. XRay

1 X-Ray  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Lilly. Don't panic."  
  
"I'm not panicking. Do you want to see me panicking? I've been calling you for hours—you were going to take me to see a play, and then you can't come and instead there's a policeman over here, asking us questions about your whereabouts, and—"  
  
"Breathe."  
  
"You keep telling me to do that. I don't want to breathe, I want to know what's going on."  
  
"I didn't do it."  
  
"Who the hell did?"  
  
"That's a mystery."  
  
"But they looked just like you."  
  
"Except for being right-handed and completely insane, yes."  
  
"I remain unconvinced."  
  
"Why am I going to rob a bank?"  
  
"Because you don't have TiVo."  
  
"You and this TiVo thing. I can't believe my own sister—"  
  
"I never—"  
  
"Doubting my word—"  
  
"I hate you. Why didn't you call me?"  
  
"Because you're only allowed one phone call."  
  
"And you didn't call me?"  
  
"You don't have a law degree. Look, it's late. I'll know more tomorrow. Your Adonis was a witness; I'm going to go find out what he knows. If his father doesn't shoot me before I set foot on the property."  
  
"Okay. Call me the minute you find out something."  
  
"Promise. Good night."  
  
"'Night."  
  
*  
  
"So far, all we've established is that it wasn't me."  
  
"It looks just like you in the picture."  
  
"I hate that paper. Who wrote the story, anyway?"  
  
"Roger Nixon."  
  
"Humph. I talked to Clark. He said the guy was a dead ringer."  
  
"Poor guy."  
  
"Clark?"  
  
"The bank robber. I wouldn't want to have to look like you."  
  
"I'm never taking you to see that play, if you're not nice to me."  
  
"Just goes to show that even the family evil genius needs someone to love him."  
  
"You believe me, don't you? I really didn't rob that bank."  
  
"Don't be stupid. Of course I do. Guns aren't your style, even if I did think you were capable of robbing someone."  
  
"Thank… you."  
  
"How's the new car doing?"  
  
"The Vantage? It's great. You put that engine in yourself?"  
  
"Yep. Greg supervised. We tested the acceleration at the track, but we couldn't find any dirt roads, so don't get too enthusiastic about those back roads you're so fond of."  
  
"I'll be careful. Thanks."  
  
"You're welcome. It's not Speed Racer."  
  
"No car will be Speed Racer."  
  
"Nothing will ever be the same."  
  
"You've been watching 'Dawson's Creek' reruns again, haven't you?"  
  
"Bryan came over and hooked up my computer so I can download all the episodes I missed."  
  
"Who's Bryan?"  
  
"A guy from school. He's a computer geek."  
  
"Sounds like fun."  
  
"Shut up. When are they going to catch the guy?"  
  
"I'll call them and see if they can give me an ETA."  
  
"Thanks. Gotta go."  
  
"Bye."  
  
*  
  
"They found out who did it."  
  
"Who was he?"  
  
"She. Some girl who disguised herself to look like me."  
  
"Wow. Years of potential ridicule, right there."  
  
"Lilly—"  
  
"Small-town girl dresses up like bald mega-billionare to rob bank. She's going to get major shit in prison."  
  
"Juvenile detention."  
  
"How old is she?"  
  
"Fifteen or sixteen."  
  
"Weird-ass teenagers you've got out there. Which reminds me—how's Adonis?"  
  
"Doing well. He's still pining after the cheerleader."  
  
"Lana?"  
  
"Yes. Really, an ex-cheerleader. She's a waitress now. Or she was. It's difficult to keep up with her."  
  
"Even more so when you don't care. So Clark keeps pining?"  
  
"It's a little sickening."  
  
"Especially when he could be pining after you."  
  
"I need to fix them up."  
  
"Because you owe him still."  
  
"He saved my life! And he won't take the truck. It's just sitting in the garage, getting dusty."  
  
"Sell it off."  
  
"I can't. I might need a four-wheel drive someday."  
  
"When?"  
  
"During a blizzard?"  
  
"If there's a blizzard, stay inside. So, you're going to get Clark the girl of his dreams, since that's less morally suspect than giving him a truck. You're like the Make A Wish Foundation gone terribly, terribly wrong."  
  
"I'm not going to dignify that."  
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
"Not sure. I need to get her quarterback boyfriend out of the way first."  
  
"He's the quarterback? And she was a cheerleader? It's like a John Cusack movie."  
  
"Any ideas?"  
  
"Concert tickets."  
  
"Concert tickets."  
  
"Yeah. Find out her favorite band, get your Adonis some tickets, and let 'em loose."  
  
"Let 'em loose."  
  
"You could give them the limo, too."  
  
"The limo?"  
  
"It's only a conversation if you come up with your very own words every once in a while."  
  
"I'm just not sure how to casually slip someone concert tickets."  
  
"You don't have to be casual about it. Just give them to Clark, suggest that he invite Lana, and let him do the rest."  
  
"Remember what happened the last time I gave him a suggestion."  
  
"Then dare him. Poke him in the ribs and hope he'll do it on his own."  
  
"I thought you were against this."  
  
"I am. But it's fun."  
  
"We're a little too alike, sometimes."  
  
"Thank God we can blame it on Dad. Go do your stuff. I've got to get ready."  
  
"What's happening?"  
  
"Bryan's taking me to see Radiohead. They're in Metropolis for this whole week, and we're going tonight. Very exciting. What are you doing, this fine Thursday night?"  
  
"Working. I've got to figure out some finances."  
  
"Don't you have an army of accountants for that?"  
  
"Not mine. The Kents'."  
  
"Lex. Let it go. Clark might be your friend, but his parents hate you and you're not going to be able to change that, no matter how nice you are. Some people just don't like us. Okay?"  
  
"I can help them. All they need is a little boost—it's the debt that's killing them."  
  
"You never used to need to be liked this much. What's with you?"  
  
"You have a concert to go to."  
  
"Fine. Have a good time."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, Bumpy." 


	4. Cool

1 Cool  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hello. This is Lex Luthor. I'm not sure if you remember me, I lived at your house for a few years, people say we look alike—"  
  
"Drop dead."  
  
"You're the one who keeps yelling at me for not telling you who's on the phone."  
  
"Yeah, and rather than expect that you would actually start identifying yourself, I got Caller ID. Shit!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"What are you doing? There are weird noises in the background."  
  
"I'm cooking."  
  
Silence.  
  
"If you've got the phone receiver covered because you're laughing at me, I will super-glue a clown wig to your head."  
  
"I would never laugh at my little sister's valiant attempts at domesticity."  
  
"You know, if you ever came home, you would know that I'm a wonderful cook."  
  
"What are you making? And who are you making it for?"  
  
"Nobody."  
  
"Uh-oh."  
  
"Bryan."  
  
"Radiohead Bryan?"  
  
"Yeah. He's coming over for the evening—Dad's in Washington, so we've got the whole place to ourselves."  
  
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  
  
"And that covers what, exactly?"  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
"Anyway, I'm making a chicken dish with lemon sauce and rice, and I just cut myself."  
  
"You're talking to me while you're bleeding?"  
  
"I forgot how wussy you are about blood and death and stuff."  
  
"I'm not—it just makes me a little uncomfortable."  
  
"Big old wuss, that's my brother. Remember when I broke my arm, and you had to call 911, and you fainted before you got to the phone? And *I* had to call them?"  
  
"No matter how hard I try to forget."  
  
"Your girlfriends always laugh when I tell them that story."  
  
"And then they break up with me."  
  
"If a girl has ever broken up with you—except the drag queen Victoria—I will inhale this chicken through my nose."  
  
"I'm tempted to lie, just to see if you'll do it."  
  
"What's going on in your neck of the woods?"  
  
"Studying colloquialisms again, are we?"  
  
"Yes, we are. Anything exciting happen lately?"  
  
"Nothing much. I had a painful discussion with the Kents, about their farm."  
  
"Look, I know you want to repay Clark for saving your life, but getting mixed up in their family business-"  
  
"I'm not involved in the business. They didn't take the offer."  
  
"Uh-oh. You sound bitter."  
  
"Mr. Kent didn't trust me. Said I was just like my father. I… I'm tired of apologizing for him."  
  
"So what are you going to do?"  
  
"Nothing. Nothing I *can* do. They want to hate me, that's fine. But I'm not going away."  
  
"That's my big brother. You make me so proud. How's my Adonis doing?"  
  
"Your Adonis is hopeless when it comes to the fairer sex."  
  
"And here you men types have been complaining about how *un* fair we are. What happened? You got them the tickets, right?"  
  
"To Radiohead, as a matter of fact. And he asked her out and everything seemed to be going perfectly."  
  
"And then, disaster struck."  
  
"He stood her up."  
  
"He stood her up?"  
  
"There was some kid who'd killed a girl running around Smallville, and Clark evidently felt the heroic impulse again."  
  
"Wait a minute. You just said that nothing much exciting is going on. But there was a homicidal kid running around?"  
  
"Well, you get used to that sort of thing in Smallville."  
  
"Somebody arrested him, right?"  
  
"No…"  
  
"*No*?"  
  
"He's in my lake."  
  
"Your—you know what? I don't want to know. So the star-crossed lovers didn't get to see the concert."  
  
"No. Lana and her boyfriend ended up here, actually."  
  
"How did *that* happen?"  
  
"Not sure. The homicidal kid somehow wrecked their car, and they walked here."  
  
"This is the boyfriend who got into a car accident a few weeks ago, right? Man, I wish he'd just *die* in one of these accidents and clear up the field."  
  
"I know."  
  
"We're going straight to hell."  
  
"We'll be with friends."  
  
"Poor Clark. He has to fend off the homicidal maniac while the boyfriend gets… well, his girlfriend. Better luck next time."  
  
"Mm. I'm starting to lose hope."  
  
"Then just butt out and let Clark take care of it. He's an adolescent, and he's going to screw up whether you're there to help him or not."  
  
"I just—"  
  
"You don't want to owe him anything."  
  
"No—well, yes. But there's something about him. I don't think he likes me because of the money."  
  
"Knowing his family, he probably likes you in spite of it."  
  
"Exactly. And—you don't meet many people. Like that."  
  
"You think he's got an agenda?"  
  
"I think there's a lot I don't know about him."  
  
"Well, find out. And stop brooding. There are a *few* people in this world who like you because of you, and not because of your money or your family or anything."  
  
"Like who?"  
  
"I don't know anybody personally. I'm just assuming. Oh! God, that's the doorbell. I'm so nervous."  
  
"You'll do fine."  
  
"I wish you were here, so I could ask if I look all right."  
  
"You look much better than all right."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Just like Mom."  
  
"Aw. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you."  
  
"You, too." 


	5. Hourglass

1 Hourglass  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Lex?"  
  
"Lilly. Hi."  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing. What do you want?"  
  
"I called to see how you were doing."  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"You certainly sound like it."  
  
"I'm *fine*."  
  
"Something happened. You call every other day, it seems like, and gloat about whatever it is you're doing."  
  
"Your point?"  
  
"No gloating for, like, a week."  
  
"As much as I would love to discuss my gloating schedule with you, I can't talk. I've got a business to run right now—"  
  
"I'm going to keep calling you until you talk to me."  
  
"You do that."  
  
*  
  
"All right. Okay. I'll talk."  
  
"Lex?"  
  
"I thought you bought Caller ID."  
  
"I did. Old habits die hard. What happened?"  
  
"I… think I might have killed somebody."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Maybe you ought to elaborate on that."  
  
"Clark had been talking about this old woman he knew. From a local home. And I went to visit her. She, um, died."  
  
"While you were there?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's awful."  
  
"That's not—the worst. She had a… reputation. She said she could see people's futures. And I asked her to—this is ridiculous—I asked her to see mine. And when she did, it killed her."  
  
"Lex. It didn't kill her. Your future didn't kill her. She was old. Old people die all the time."  
  
"Well, that's one argument against aging."  
  
"What I mean is, if you'd made a loud noise behind her, she might have had a heart attack. And maybe it was just her time, and it was an unfortunate coincidence."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Hey, you're talking to a teenager here. And teenagers, once they express an opinion, are never wrong. Besides, since when did you start believing that people could tell the future?"  
  
"Since… since moving here. This place is getting to me."  
  
"I agree. You need to come visit for a few days. Stop brooding. You can visit everybody who's been asking about you."  
  
"Like who?"  
  
"Well, Bruce was in town a couple of days ago."  
  
"Was he?"  
  
"He was. And he took me to a very nice restaurant, too. He said to say hello."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"He's still just as weird as ever."  
  
"I believe that. He never was completely—"  
  
"Sane?"  
  
"Normal."  
  
"Poh-tay-toe, Poh-tah-toe."  
  
"Yes, indeed. So."  
  
"It'll be okay."  
  
"You weren't there, Lilly. The—I was holding her *hand*, and when I let go, it just… fell."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I've been compulsively washing my hands all week."  
  
"You're like Lady MacBeth."  
  
"You keep effeminizing me, do you know that?"  
  
"I'm sorry about what happened. Come home for a few days and pay attention to me. I want to be co-dependent for a while."  
  
"I can't. I have obligations here."  
  
"Obligations, shmobligations. Come on."  
  
"Nell's having a birthday party for her niece at the mansion in a few days. I have to stay and oversee everything."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Don't start, Lilly."  
  
"Nasty Nell's niece is having a birthday party at your house."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you're helping her, rather than spending a weekend with me."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you don't want me to start."  
  
"No, I don't. She asked it as a personal favor."  
  
"Can I come?"  
  
"As much as I would love to invite you, all the invitations have already been sent out and there just isn't room for anyone else."  
  
"Are you saying that I can't come down to Smallville this weekend, just to see my beloved sibling, and crash the party purely by accident?"  
  
"That's exactly what I'm saying."  
  
"You're afraid I'm going to spill the beans to Clark about your crush on him."  
  
"I am not. And I don't have a crush on him."  
  
"You suck."  
  
"That's what all the rumors say."  
  
"Heh. How's the factory?"  
  
"Doing remarkably well. Have I told you about Gabe yet?"  
  
"No. Who's Gabe?"  
  
"The plant manager. You'd like him. I think I know more about his daughter than I do about how the plant works, at this point."  
  
"Is she cute?"  
  
"What, are you batting for the other team now?"  
  
"No. I'm trying to get you interested in someone who isn't fifteen so that you can have some fun while you're exiled in No Man's Land."  
  
"Well, the daughter's fifteen, too, so that's not going to work out. But thanks for the thought."  
  
"Gah. Do twentysomethings even exist in Smallville? Or do they somehow go from teenager to wrinkled old farmhand in a matter of months?"  
  
"My secretary's about my age, but she's involved."  
  
"Since when has that ever stopped you?"  
  
"She's not really my type, either. And I haven't had much time to be social."  
  
"Yet you have time to plan a birthday party for some girl you don't even like."  
  
"I like her just fine. She's just… distressingly dense when it comes to romance."  
  
"So are you. If this keeps up, I'm going to have to start shipping girls over."  
  
"I'm begging you not to do that."  
  
"Hmm. Maybe I'll see if Victoria's in town."  
  
"Lilly—"  
  
"I'm kidding. But seriously—don't go into hibernation. It's a bad habit we have, of retreating into our little shells. Go to a club or something."  
  
"I don't think Smallville has clubs."  
  
"Then build one. Something to get you out and about."  
  
"Speaking of which, how did your dinner with Bryan go?"  
  
"Oh. Really, really well."  
  
"Oh,*really*?"  
  
"Not that well. I mean, I'm still—not going to have this conversation with my brother. But he's great."  
  
"So this is why you're trying to get me fixed up with someone."  
  
"I'm just trying to spread the joy of smoochies."  
  
"Thanks for the thought, but I'll stick with my current regime."  
  
"I don't even want to know what your current regime is. Anyway—are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Yes. Thanks."  
  
"I'm probably the only person you thank, any more."  
  
"You want me to keep doing it, or not?"  
  
"Whatever. You're welcome. And I'm really sorry."  
  
"It's not your fault. I wish I could blame it on you."  
  
"If that floats your boat."  
  
"I'll talk to you soon. I promise."  
  
"Oh, you'll see me on Saturday."  
  
"I'd better not."  
  
"Bye!"  
  
"Lilly—" 


	6. Craving

1 Craving  
  
"Hey, Bumps, did you miss me?"  
  
"Lilly, I told you that you couldn't come here for—"  
  
"Excuse me? Couldn't? I don't think that's going to work out very well, especially since I already told Dad I was spending the weekend and he thought that it would be a perfect opportunity for me to bond with my wayward brother. So don't go spouting off 'couldn't' at me, buddy."  
  
"You're spending the weekend?"  
  
"Do you want me to drive back tonight?"  
  
"Preferably right now."  
  
"I have this weird feeling that you're not thrilled to bits."  
  
"I am thrilled to bits. Really. But I don't need you to come down here every time I have a—"  
  
"A meltdown? Look, I'm not even worried about that. You're going to have to learn to accept death and I don't know how to fix that for you. Ooh, nice hallway. Dad really went all out with this place. I just came here to scope out all these people you've been talking about. I won't even tell anybody I'm related to you, I'll just say that I'm a friend of a friend, and I'm crashing, or whatever."  
  
Silence.  
  
"God. I promise that I don't care about your emotional well-being in the slightest. *Now* can I stay?"  
  
"Fine. But it's not going to be that interesting. Just a bunch of high school kids packed into a big room with loud music and tacky balloons."  
  
"Don't forget the cake. Besides, I *am* a high school kid. So, where do I get to crash?"  
  
"Come on. There's probably a guest room somewhere upstairs."  
  
"There are probably about fifty."  
  
"Good point. I haven't done much exploring. There's already a worn place in the carpets between my room, my office, and the front door."  
  
"Poor Lex. All the gifts of Midas, and no time to enjoy them."  
  
"So, where's Radiohead Bryan?"  
  
"Not here."  
  
"Evidently."  
  
"It didn't work out."  
  
"Is there a story, or should I just look sympathetic?"  
  
"I'll take door number two."  
  
"You don't want his legs broken, or anything."  
  
"Aw. And this isn't even *my* birthday party. But I'm fine. I already put a nasty virus on his computer, so I'm feeling okay. Thanks, though."  
  
"Not a problem. I think this is one of the free rooms; let's see..."  
  
Silence.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"You—"  
  
"Do you like it?"  
  
"Oh, my God. You did all this? You are the best brother ever."  
  
"Well, I knew there'd be no stopping you, so I figured the best way to make sure you didn't stay long was to make you feel as welcome as possible. That usually gets you unnerved pretty quickly."  
  
"But you—it's just like my room at home. This is so perfect. Okay, what the hell is that?"  
  
"The poster? I thought you liked that movie."  
  
"I've never even heard of that movie."  
  
"'Suspect?'"  
  
"Bumpy. It's 'The Usual Suspects.' With Kevin Spacey and Gabriel Byrne? As opposed to Cher and Dennis Quaid?"  
  
"I told the decorator the name of the movie was something 'Suspects.' I guess they were all out of the other poster."  
  
"You dork. Thank you so much."  
  
"Sure. But we still have to share the bathroom, so don't take forever getting ready. The party starts in three hours."  
  
*  
  
"You look very nice."  
  
"Are you kidding? I look fabulous."  
  
"Well, you should, considering how long you took in the bathroom."  
  
"Oh, like you had anything to do in there besides shine your head. Where's the party girl?"  
  
"Not sure. She disappeared right after the receiving line."  
  
"I can't believe Nasty Nell made her have a receiving line."  
  
"I think it was the organizer's idea."  
  
"She hired an organizer for this?"  
  
"I did."  
  
"Lex—"  
  
"It was either that, or let her drive me up the wall blathering about balloons and the size of the cake. At least the organizer got paid to put up with her."  
  
"Good idea. So your Adonis isn't here yet?"  
  
"He's not my Adonis. And no, he isn't."  
  
"Ooh. Somebody sounds pouty."  
  
"Lilly—"  
  
"I'm sure he wouldn't stand *you* up."  
  
"As much as I appreciate your attempts to set me up with—"  
  
"This isn't an attempt. This is me, making fun of you."  
  
"Clark and I are just friends."  
  
"With benefits."  
  
"I'm going to go find Lana."  
  
"You do that. I'll mingle and tell embarrassing stories about you."  
  
"Do I have to lock you in the coat room again?"  
  
"You can't lock me in the coat room."  
  
"Yes, I can. I'm still bigger than you."  
  
"Yeah, but there's no lock on the door."  
  
"You checked?"  
  
"Hell, yes. I know you."  
  
"Hmph."  
  
"Hey. That reminds me..."  
  
"You want to?"  
  
"Do you? We haven't done that since last Christmas."  
  
"Sure. It'll be fun."  
  
"Okay. I'll steal some alcohol, you get the cards."  
  
"I'm the one who's of legal age."  
  
"Oh, like that's ever been a problem for either of us. 'Hi, I'm the billionaire's offspring. Give me liquor.' 'Okay.' Not hard."  
  
"Fine. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."  
  
*  
  
"Did you shuffle them?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I didn't see you shuffle them."  
  
"That's because you were busy piling all those coats on the floor."  
  
"It's not my fault Dad has a marble fetish. My ass is cold."  
  
"*My* ass fell asleep about five minutes ago, and you don't see me complaining."  
  
"You want a coat?"  
  
Silence. "Well, not *that* one."  
  
"It's fine. It'll be soft."  
  
"Give me something a little more manly."  
  
"You and this manly fixation. Leather is plenty manly."  
  
"Not when it's attached to fur cuffs and a collar."  
  
"Well, in its defense, I don't think it's real fur. Or real leather."  
  
"Even worse."  
  
"I know. An entire family of synthetic bunnies, slaughtered for this."  
  
"Heh."  
  
"Shuffle again."  
  
"I already shuffled."  
  
"I trust you about as far as I can throw you, so do it again."  
  
"I'm not shuffling again."  
  
"Shuffle, or I'm not giving you any bourbon."  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Thank you." Silence. "Crap. This is the shittiest hand in the whole history of shitty hands."  
  
"Do you ever learn? Poker face. You have to have a poker face at all times."  
  
"Well, it's not like we're playing—"  
  
"It's the principle of the thing."  
  
"Who starts?"  
  
"I think you do."  
  
"Doesn't the dealer start?"  
  
"No, the person to the left of the dealer."  
  
"Nobody's to the left of the dealer."  
  
"You are."  
  
"I'm sitting across from you, Bumpy."  
  
"You keep calling me that, when you're the one with the egg-sized knob on your head."  
  
"Which was *your* fault."  
  
"I never made you go up that tree."  
  
"You dared me!"  
  
"I didn't dare you to fall off. And besides, you're responsible for your actions."  
  
"I was seven."  
  
"You were eight."  
  
"I was impressionable. And I'm still not to your left."  
  
"In a metaphysical sense, you are."  
  
"So metaphysically, I'm starting."  
  
"Then start. And give me the bottle."  
  
"I should have grabbed a few glasses. After a while, we're going to be fighting over that thing."  
  
"Are you going to start?"  
  
"Fine, Mr. Rushy McHasty. Do you have a *queen*?"  
  
"Go fish—shut up."  
  
"Bwah! Or *are* you a queen?"  
  
"No more bourbon for you."  
  
"Like hell no more bourbon for me. I *stole* that, fair and square."  
  
"From my bar."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
"Do you have a red seven?"  
  
"Wait. Are we playing the way where you have to put the colors together, or just any old pair?"  
  
"Colors together. That's how we always play."  
  
"Then I get to ask if you've got a black queen or a red queen."  
  
"You don't have a queen, you're just mocking me."  
  
"I do so have a queen! But, yeah, I'm mocking you, too."  
  
"Besides, I don't have either, and you already went fish, so it's my turn."  
  
"I never thought about the past tense of 'Go Fish.'"  
  
"'Went Fish.'"  
  
"Now I know."  
  
"Do you have a red seven?"  
  
"Go fish. Do you have a red queen?"  
  
Silence. "Oh, go to hell."  
  
"You just *pulled* it? Oh, I love this game. Do you have a—"  
  
"Wait. You go again?"  
  
"Yeah, I got a pair. So I get to go again."  
  
"I thought you just got a pair and that was it."  
  
"No, you go again until you stop getting pairs."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Do you have a black queen?"  
  
"This joke isn't nearly as funny as you think it is."  
  
"Oh, it so totally is. Puerile humor is always funny. Damn! I drew the black queen."  
  
"Doesn't that mean you're winning?"  
  
"Yeah, but now I can't say 'queen' anymore."  
  
"A real tragedy, there."  
  
"Do you have a black nine?"  
  
"Go fish. Do you have a red ten?"  
  
"Go fish. Hand it over. The *bottle*, dude. Are we betting for anything, here?"  
  
"You want to?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Wait. I don't want anything of yours."  
  
"Since I already gave you that car. It doesn't have to be a thing—oh, here's mine. If I win, you have to serenade Clark with a song, when he shows up. In front of everybody."  
  
"No."  
  
"Come on. You know you want to."  
  
"I'm not serenading anybody—"  
  
"'Wherever You Will Go'?"  
  
"Least of all an underage high school football player who's fixated on the girl whose birthday party I'm hosting."  
  
"Buck-buck-b-kawk!"  
  
"No chicken sounds. I'm not doing it."  
  
"You do that, and then if I lose, I'll fix Speed Racer."  
  
"I don't want you to fix Speed Racer. It's fine just the way it is."  
  
"In half?"  
  
"It's a reminder."  
  
"That you're a shitty driver, I know. Well, what else? I'll do something embarrassing."  
  
"Do one of your interpretive dances."  
  
"Oookay…"  
  
"Of your breakup with Radiohead Bryan."  
  
"Oh. Oh, no way. No way. I am not tainting my art with a cheap and tawdry story."  
  
"Interpretive dance *is* cheap and tawdry."  
  
"You didn't even see the last performance!"  
  
"You sent me a tape."  
  
"And I'm so sure you watched it."  
  
"I did! I even wrote you that letter. It was a marvel of epic proportions. Your troupe rivals Alvin Ailey's in its audacious simplicity, its original music selections, it's gravity-defying feats."  
  
"Now you're confusing my interpretive dance with my tumbling class. And Alvin Ailey doesn't do interpretive  
  
dance."  
  
"You have too many hobbies."  
  
"Cars, dancing, computers, tumbling. Not that many. Dad doesn't approve of any of them, of course."  
  
"Not even you can be the perfect daughter."  
  
"Why did you take up fencing, by the way? You used to hate stuff like that."  
  
"Trying to get into Dad's good graces. It's not working as well as I'd hoped."  
  
"I love it. Between us, we make one ideal child and one demon seed."  
  
"So. If I win, you do the dance."  
  
"If *I* win, *you* sing a power ballad."  
  
"We'll have to get a lot more drunk than we are right now."  
  
"No kidding. Whose turn?"  
  
"Yours."  
  
"Okay. Do you have a red three?"  
  
"Go fish. Do you have a black nine?"  
  
"Hey! I just asked you for that!"  
  
"And I drew it right after. Give it up."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"I don't mind so much. Do you have a black six?"  
  
"Ugh! Here."  
  
"Do you have a red ace?"  
  
"Go fish, you bastard."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Do you have a black ace?"  
  
"Go fish."  
  
"Hey! Cool. Your turn."  
  
"You got a pair. Don't you go again?"  
  
"No, because it's not the pair I asked for. If you go fish and get a match for a different card, then you don't get another turn. You just put down the pair."  
  
"This rules seem awfully arbitrary."  
  
"That's because I'm pretty much making them up as we go."  
  
"How is it we can't remember how to play from one game to the next?"  
  
"Because we play maybe three times a year."  
  
"We should right the rules down somewhere."  
  
"We're getting old."  
  
"Hey! There you go. If I win, you can get me an automated wheelchair."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"I saw them at the retirement home, a few weeks ago. It's the way to travel."  
  
"I'll buy you an IT for Christmas."  
  
"We get complimentary ones, I think."  
  
"No, just Dad. I can't believe he actually invested in that stupid-ass invention."  
  
"Just wait until everyone's buying them."  
  
"Yeah, I can really see the demand. A whole new way to get run over by a car."  
  
"Do you have a red jack?"  
  
"Go fish."  
  
"How do we decide who wins?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Is the winner whoever gets rid of all their cards first, or whoever has the most pair when the first one finishes?"  
  
"Um… the second one. I guess?"  
  
"Maybe there's a rulebook for this game."  
  
"A rulebook."  
  
"There could be."  
  
"For 'Go Fish'? I don't think so."  
  
"You should get me that for Christmas, instead of the IT."  
  
"What about the wheelchair?"  
  
"The wheelchair could have a little pocket for books, you could put it in there."  
  
"You're expecting *more* than one present?"  
  
"Yes, I am."  
  
"Fine. Fine. Greedy little capitalist. Do you have a red five? Yes! Woo, hoo. Almost done. Do you have a black king?"  
  
"Go fish."  
  
"Dammit."  
  
"Do you have a red king?"  
  
"You totally saw what I drew!"  
  
"And whose fault is that?"  
  
"Oh, sure, blame the victim."  
  
"Of all the things that I would say describe you, 'victim' would be the last on the list."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."  
  
"Do you—well, I know you don't have a red jack, so I'll just go fish."  
  
"Yeah. Do you have a red king?"  
  
"Go fish."  
  
"This is getting monotonous."  
  
"Maybe we should figure out a new game to play, next time."  
  
"Well, the solitaire games that I play whenever you're within a five-mile radius usually turn into a two-person game, so—"  
  
"You're a terrible solitaire player."  
  
"That's because I never have a chance to practice it solitarily."  
  
"What about gin?"  
  
"To play, or drink? Because I'm getting pretty wasted on the bourbon, and I think gin in combination might make my stomach very unhappy."  
  
"To play."  
  
"But we don't know how."  
  
"So buy me the big rulebook for card games, and we'll learn."  
  
"That sounds a little labor intensive. Your turn."  
  
*  
  
"He didn't show up."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Is everybody gone?"  
  
"Yeah, people left a while ago."  
  
"Okay, then I'm going to tell you a big secret."  
  
"Lex, you really need to go to bed. And drink about a gallon of water before you do so. And maybe take a shower."  
  
"I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"  
  
"Well, if you did, at least you did it in the coatroom and not out in public."  
  
"You left! Where did you go?"  
  
"You wanted to know if Clark was here, and you were too much of a wussy-man to see for yourself. Come on, upsy-daisy. Lucky the butler didn't see you back here."  
  
"I hid under my coats. They're all back here. He got mad when he saw somebody had been sitting on the guests' coats, though."  
  
"You *hid*? Come on. I'm not carrying you. Up you go."  
  
"You never came back. Left me all alone with that big old bottle of bourbon."  
  
"Big old, now *empty* bottle of bourbon."  
  
"Where did you go?"  
  
"I ended up partying with some of the denizens of Smallville. Not slack- jawed yokels. I'm very impressed. Even though there was a distressing amount of plaid and gingham."  
  
"There wasn't any gingham."  
  
"Yeah, but you could tell all the girls were feeling naked without it."  
  
"So he never came."  
  
"Nope. Sorry."  
  
"Yeah. That's my secret."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I'm a little disappointed."  
  
"You're a little disappointed?"  
  
"Just a little."  
  
"Well, look on the bright side—watch the steps—look on the bright side. At least you didn't have to sing for him."  
  
"Did you win?"  
  
"Yep. In the sudden-death round. I think that's why you polished off the bottle. But you lucked out."  
  
"I should go sing for him now!"  
  
"That's a really, really bad idea. Come on, we're almost at the top."  
  
"Wow. This house has a lot of steps."  
  
"Very astute of you. You've been living here, what, two months, and you just now notice that the place has a lot of steps."  
  
"Well, I'm very drunk right now."  
  
"That's so, so true. Here we go, turn the knob. No, you have to turn—here, I'll get it. All right, now sit here—no, fine, just lie on the bed."  
  
"Lilly, we're brother and sister, you shouldn't be getting me into bed—"  
  
"You're so squicky right now, I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."  
  
"Stop taking my clothes off."  
  
"I'm taking your shoes off. Calm down. Hold on, I'm going to find a glass of water. *Don't* pass out until you drink something."  
  
"I don't want to drink anything."  
  
"Unless you want to spend tomorrow morning throwing up everything you ate tonight, you're going to drink some water. You're the one who taught me this trick, Lex. Stay awake for five more minutes, I'll be right back."  
  
*  
  
"Lex. Lex! Wake up."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Drink."  
  
"Oh. Thanks."  
  
"Heh. You're drooling."  
  
"I am *not* drooling, it spilled."  
  
"Fine. Now go to bed. Thank God tomorrow's Sunday. I'm going to my room down the hall, okay? You wake me up before noon, I won't be responsible for the consequences."  
  
"Okay. G'night."  
  
"Goodnight, Bumpy."  
  
"Don't… [yawn] call me… that…" 


	7. Jitters

1 Jitters  
  
"Hey. How are you doing?"  
  
"Lex! I told Dad not to tell you. It's nothing, I just—"  
  
"Stop it. Why didn't you want Dad to tell me?"  
  
"Because I knew you'd come up here. Really, I'm fine. It'll heal in a month, tops. Why are your hands behind your back?"  
  
"Pick one."  
  
"Left. Oh, cute. Lillies. Too bad you didn't bring a vase."  
  
"You didn't check my other hand."  
  
"Oh! Thanks. They're beautiful—you can just put them… um, somewhere."  
  
"You're pretty popular. All of Metropolis's flowershops, right here."  
  
"And a few of Gotham's. Friends from school. Or, more accurately, their parents' secretaries. Still, it's nice."  
  
"I see my idea wasn't exactly original."  
  
"You don't have too many of those. I still like them best, though. I promise."  
  
"So, how did you break *this* leg? Climbing trees again?"  
  
"No. Didn't Dad tell you?" Silence. "Dad *didn't* tell you. How did you find out?"  
  
"There are other people in this household besides him."  
  
"There's nobdoy else in this *family*. I just thought he'd say something. Even though—"  
  
"Even though you asked him not to."  
  
"Yeah. I keep forgetting, he doesn't really care enough to say anything."  
  
"Come on. This isn't helping. What happened this time?"  
  
"I feel like the only reason you come here is because I've broken something or pulled something."  
  
"That's because it *is* the only reason I'd come here. This better not be a plea for attention. It seems to be working pretty well."  
  
"You really hate Metropolis, don't you?"  
  
"It's got its good points. Spill."  
  
"Fine, it's not that—it's kind of embarassing. I was showing off in my tumbling class last night—"  
  
"You had classes on a Sunday night?"  
  
"My coach says there's no rest for the wiry. So. There are a lot of gymnasts in the troupe, you know? And one of the guys was bragging that no girl could do the rings, because they were all about strength and endurance."  
  
"And you wanted to play Uber-Girl."  
  
"I prefer Super-Girl, thanks very much. Anyway, there were some rings set up in the gym, and I tried them out."  
  
"And…?"  
  
"Okay, first of all, it's a *lot* easiser to get tangled up in those things than you might think. Harriet got a picture of me at one point; I look like a spandex-covered pretzel. Anyway, I managed to get myself untwisted, but then I tried to do a roll, and I couldn't get my arm around fast enough, and there was a snap, and I fell."  
  
"You broke your leg by twisting your arm?"  
  
"No, the snap was a tendon in my arm going 'Ow.' The break happened right after the falling bit."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Do you want to sign my cast?"  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Oh. Good point. Do you like the picture? That's Mike's, the guy who was bragging about the endurance and stuff. He felt so bad that he spent about half an hour when I was unconcious, drawing this. Kind of cute."  
  
"That's supposed to be you? You look like one of the Sailor Moon girls."  
  
"He's got a thing for anime. He says the next time I break something, he'll draw one of the Powerpuffs."  
  
"Blossom? Or Buttercup? You're not really the Bubbles type."  
  
"The fact that you know their names disturbs me more than words can possibly express."  
  
"I like the Cartoon Network."  
  
"This conversation is giving me hives. Anyway, here. Nobody signed on the back of my calf yet. I think. I can't really see it, so much. Somebody could have written something like 'You suck,' and I wouldn't know about it."  
  
"You'll have to keep the cast after it heals."  
  
"Add it to my collection? Dad says signing a cast is prosaic."  
  
"Don't you mean 'proletarian'?"  
  
"Eh, it's something with a 'p' and lots of syllables. The pen's on the nightstand."  
  
"You'd think he'd have learned by now, that you are nothing if not 'p' and lots of syllables."  
  
"Thanks for coming."  
  
"Stop moving around when I'm writing this. It's awkward enough."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"And no talking. You have a very bumpy calf."  
  
"Look who's talking about bumpy."  
  
"Don't start, or I'll scribble all over your Sailor Lilly picture. There."  
  
"What did you write?"  
  
"You'll have to read it yourself."  
  
"That could pose some difficulties."  
  
"It says, 'To the sister I love more than life itself, wishing you a speedy recovery.'"  
  
"It so doesn't say that."  
  
"Well, you'll have to wait until someone you actually trust comes to visit, and have them read it to you."  
  
"I take it back, what I said about liking your flowers the best. They're 'p' and lots of syllables."  
  
"That's just the pain talking."  
  
"Yeah, the pain in my ass. Meaning you."  
  
"Maybe it's the drugs talking."  
  
"Yeah, the drug in my… wait, that doesn't work as an insult. Dammit."  
  
"You get much sleep last night?"  
  
"Well, considering I was stuck here, with a nurse popping in every five seconds to stick something somewhere uncomfortable, and people paging Dr. Code Blue, not really."  
  
"Okay. Why don't you get some rest. I'll be back."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I'm going to get some food. I've been driving for the past three hours, it's past lunchtime, and I'm hungry. I'll be back. Promise."  
  
"Fine. But if you wrote anything mean, I'm going to save this cast just so I can beat you over the head with it."  
  
"I'm sufficiently threatened. I think that's the biggest one yet."  
  
"Yup. Dr. Morrissette said that I'm keeping him in business all by myself. All these injuries more than make up for your distressingly good health. Oh, which reminds me. What's with the high white blood cells count?"  
  
"I'll save my breath and not ask how you knew that—"  
  
"Very wise—"  
  
"And instead tell you it's nothing to worry about. I don't get sick."  
  
"I know. I'm still bitter about the time I tried to infect you with chicken pox."  
  
"Go to sleep. I'll be back in a few minutes."  
  
"If you're going to be back, why do I want to go to sleep?"  
  
"Because you're a lot more charming when you're unconcious."  
  
"Leave."  
  
*  
  
"Humph?"  
  
"Lilly. It's Lex."  
  
"Hey. Okay, I'm not really awake, but you're not here, you're on the phone, so I'm confused."  
  
"It looks like I won't be there for a while."  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Doing ninety in a forty-five speed zone, somewhere between there and Smallville. There's a nutcase taking hostages at the plant."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I don't know what's going on, either. I'll be there in about twenty minutes—I just didn't want one of your gymnast goons to break something of mine when you found out I ran out on you."  
  
"Don't worry about it. Just call me when you fix it, okay? And don't do anything that'll make Dad come down there, because he'll start yelling and you'll get grumpy and do something dumb just to piss him off. Your need to rebel sometimes has the tendency to get you in trouble."  
  
"High school psychology classes ought to be banned."  
  
"You're a textbook case, Bumps. Sorry."  
  
"I'll call."  
  
*  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey. You look like death on sliced bread. The cameras don't add ten pounds, but they make you look like Casper the Friendly Ghost."  
  
"It's already on the news?"  
  
"Are you kidding? You and Dad made CNN tonight. Nice shirt, by the way."  
  
"What are they saying about me?"  
  
"The better question is, why am I learning about this on the news?"  
  
"Because I just saw Dad lift off and I'm now in the process of pouring myself some brandy. Haven't had the chance to call you yet."  
  
"Ooh, ladies and gentlemen, he'd deep in the sulking phase. Should I call back?"  
  
"I prefer to call it the brooding phase."  
  
"You're not Angel, so you don't get to brood. Explain yourself."  
  
"The lunatic turned out to be an ex-employee, Earl Jenkins. He's convinced the plant did something awful to him a while ago, took a class field trip hostage in order to get some answers. Dad screwed up, I had to go in and he proceeded to seal me inside the plant with Jenkins, Clark, and a lot of methane gas."  
  
"*Clark* was there?"  
  
"Yep. It was his class's field trip. The guy—Earl Jenkins—used to work for his dad."  
  
"Huh. Weird little grouping. So what happened?"  
  
"Other than Clark saving my life again, not much."  
  
"Another rescue? You guys have a bizarro relationship."  
  
"I'm beginning to agree with you. He managed to pull me and Jenkins up from a disintegrating bridge."  
  
"Would you've died if he hadn't?"  
  
"Very likely."  
  
"Kind of romantic."  
  
"It's too bad your leg's already broken, because I'm tempted to cause you pain right now."  
  
"Says the big man who's 150 miles away. So was that why you had to leave so fast?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I just want to…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dad played the cameras pretty well. They showed the hugging thing."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Lex. He's not worth hating."  
  
"I… I'm coming back to the hospital tonight. Okay?"  
  
"Take the limo. And drink some more on the way."  
  
"See you soon."  
  
*  
  
"Good morning, sunshine."  
  
"Damn. I told the nurses to keep you out."  
  
"Turns out they love money; got all excited when they found out I had some. This is good stuff. Are you allowed to have any?"  
  
"I think the morphine or whatever they're giving me is enough. But thanks."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"You don't look drunk."  
  
"I'm not. Figured it wouldn't make a good impression, stumbling into Metropolis General with an open bottle of burbon and a dour expression."  
  
"You *have* an open bottle of liquor and a dour expression."  
  
"But I'm not stumbling. Dad hasn't dropped by today?"  
  
"Of course not. Here, I had them bring in another bed for you. I know it's not the best—"  
  
"It's perfect. Thanks." Shuffling sounds. "Ah. Heaven."  
  
"Check out the remote on the side."  
  
"What—oh! Nice. Up, down, up, down. I should get one of these for the house. Up, down, up down."  
  
"You are drunk."  
  
"Mildly tipsy. You *did* tell me to drink something on the way here."  
  
"Good point. So. Are you okay?"  
  
"Right as rain. I'm awake at two in the morning, I've got a sister with a broken leg, a plant that just suffered a serious depression in morale, a father who's… him, and a town that hates me now more than ever."  
  
"They *hate* you? You just went in there and rescued all their kids!"  
  
"But it was my fault."  
  
"No, it was Dad's fault. They're going to throw a parade for you tomorrow."  
  
"Mph. Maybe."  
  
"Whatever. So, you gonna try to give Clark that truck again?"  
  
"I somehow doubt he'll be any more eager to accept it than last time."  
  
"You mean, his father still won't let him take it."  
  
"Which reminds me. Do you remember Dad ever mentioning anything about a Jonathan Kent?"  
  
"Who's that? Clark's father?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Huh. No. Why?"  
  
"They know each other. From somewhere."  
  
"So now we know why Clark's father doesn't like you. Figures you're spawn of the devil."  
  
"Which is accurate, as far as it goes."  
  
"Hee. Dad would make the perfect Satan, you know?"  
  
"Heh. Yeah, he would. So how long are you stuck here?"  
  
"Couple more days. Otherwise I would have gone down there, too."  
  
"Excuses, excuses. You could have gotten someone to carry you."  
  
"I feel all torn up about not being there, trust me. So, what's Level Three?"  
  
"How—?"  
  
"There was some passing mention about a Level Three that Jenkins was looking for; Dad said on the news that it was some storage facility, and whenever he says something publicly it's always bullshit, so what is it?"  
  
"Nothing, now. Just a big empty room about a hundred feet below ground."  
  
"Okay, what *was* it?"  
  
"I'm going to find that out."  
  
"Good luck. Remember, he cleared everybody out except a few of the more clueless guys right before you took over. That's probably why. He's covered his tracks."  
  
"Already figured that, but thanks."  
  
"Well, I can never tell how quick or slow on the uptake you are, so I wanted to make sure. So."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Clark rescued you."  
  
"Oh, for the love of—"  
  
"Isn't it romaaaant—"  
  
"Why did I come back here?"  
  
"What I'd like to know is, what he was doing in the building."  
  
"Jenkins took his field trip hostage."  
  
"Jenkins let everybody go, I thought."  
  
"Clark stayed behind."  
  
"To save the love of his life?"  
  
"Maybe they can fix a morphine drip to my arm, too, keep me from having to listen to you."  
  
"Morphine doesn't make you go deaf."  
  
"Yeah, but it would make this conversation a lot more enjoyable."  
  
"So you're saying he just stayed behind to be a good citizen."  
  
"Presumably."  
  
"Buulll-shiiiiiit."  
  
"Look, he knew Jenkins. Maybe he figured he could talk him out of killing me, or he had an idea of where Level Three was. He was the one who found it."  
  
"How?"  
  
"No idea. X-ray vision, maybe."  
  
"They grow very special people in Smallville."  
  
"*Somebody* found it. Dad had the elevator leading down to Level Three walled over. But when Jenkins dragged me down there, it had been smashed with a sledgehammer."  
  
"Not a very tough wall."  
  
"I guess not. Anyway."  
  
"Then Clark pulled you up."  
  
"You know, I'm thinking back on it now, and it all seems so contrived. Jenkins was suffering from siezures of some kind. That's what he blamed Dad for; thought whatever experiment they were doing in Level Three had caused them. Anyway. He'd just start… shaking, and it got so violent he could break things. He killed someone, did you hear?"  
  
"The janitor guy? I know. That was on the news, too."  
  
"Well, we're on a bridge, spanning Level Three. About two hundred feet below us is the floor. And Jenkins has one of his attacks right there on the bridge. Bridge tears in half, we fall."  
  
"And Clark pulls you up."  
  
"Single-handedly."  
  
"They grow *very* special people in Smallville."  
  
"He claims it was adrenalin."  
  
"And you think it was something else?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You're awfully suspcious tonight."  
  
"I'm awfully morose tonight."  
  
"You want a real hug?"  
  
"I'm good. But thanks for the offer."  
  
"C'mon. It'll make you feel better."  
  
"I don't think I can get up."  
  
"Okay. I'll give you one tomorrow morning."  
  
"Do you have a spare gown for me to sleep in?"  
  
"Nope. But you give out some more of your pretty money, they nurses might give you something."  
  
"I think I'll stick with just taking off my shoes."  
  
"Go for it."  
  
"Goodnight, kiddo."  
  
"'Night, Bumpy." 


	8. Merry Christmas

1 "A Christmas Story"  
  
"'Morning."  
  
"'Morning, yourself."  
  
"Where's Dad?"  
  
"No idea. I'm guessing not here."  
  
"It's—"  
  
"Hey, don't look at me, I just live here. Rose said he left a few hours ago, didn't say when he'd be back."  
  
"Rose is working today?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You made people work today?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"Did you at least give them tomorrow off?"  
  
"They're not mine to give days off! Besides, I'm not the world's most mobile person. I need somebody to help me out."  
  
"You have me."  
  
"Oh, and you're so useful."  
  
"Tomorrow's Christmas."  
  
"Fine. Give everybody the day off. You'd just better be ready to fetch and carry for me."  
  
"What if I don't?"  
  
"My crutches have deadly throwing accuracy. I could kill an antelope with these things."  
  
"Yes, but then you've given me a weapon."  
  
"It's only a weapon if you're conscious enough to use it."  
  
"Good point. All right, I'll help you out tomorrow. That'll be another one of your Christmas presents."  
  
"You cooking breakfast instead of Jean? Yeah, Merry Christmas to me."  
  
"Cooking?"  
  
"Okay, making toast."  
  
"I'll take you out for breakfast."  
  
"Deal. It better be expensive."  
  
*  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"What!"  
  
"Come here!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come *here*!"  
  
"*What*?"  
  
"'A Christmas Story' is on. It's some marathon type of thing. '24 Hours of "A Christmas Story".'"  
  
"You were yelling at me for that?"  
  
"I couldn't go and get you."  
  
"I'm next door. You're injured, not crippled."  
  
"Do you remember? Mom would rent this every year and I'd hide my eyes whenever it got time for the tongue thing."  
  
"You still do."  
  
"I do… okay, yes, I do, but it's so gross."  
  
"Grandmother's looking for you."  
  
"Uchh."  
  
"What's she going to do to you this year?"  
  
"Well, last year it was holly leaves and berries. Year before that, it was a huge poinsettia flower. I can only assume that this year it's going to be one of those candle wreaths."  
  
"Why do you let her do this every year?"  
  
"'Let her'? The only reason she doesn't subject you to this humiliation is because you don't have any hair."  
  
"Plus, men really can't get away with wreaths."  
  
"The party doesn't even start for another three hours, and she's going to put wax on my head, and you just laugh at me. I could file for child abuse."  
  
"You don't know it's candles. Maybe she'll…"  
  
"Maybe she'll get creative with Christmas tree ornaments?"  
  
"You know, that might look good. Little bulbs and maybe a string of lights."  
  
"Just as long as they aren't the blinking ones. Oh, this is my favorite part."  
  
"'Fra-jee-le. Must be Italian.'"  
  
"'I think that says "fragile", honey.'"  
  
"'Oh, yeah.'"  
  
"You know, if someone ever got me a lamp like that, I'd—actually, I really think I would put it in my front window."  
  
"You live in a penthouse. You don't *have* a front window."  
  
"Every party needs a pooper."  
  
"So *that's* why you invited me."  
  
"Hey! You've got your stuff on. We've got time."  
  
"Dad's probably going to insist I leave early with him."  
  
"Well, he's hosting this, not you."  
  
"Lilly. I'm the heir to the Luthor fortune, scion of the wealthiest man in Metropolis and possibly the free world, expected to take his place in the fullness of time and lead LuthorCorp to still greater heights."  
  
"And…?"  
  
"Nothing. Sometimes I just like to say that."  
  
"Heh."  
  
"Uh-oh. I think I hear Grandmother calling for you."  
  
"Shut the door, shut the door!"  
  
"You don't think she's going to check your bedroom?"  
  
"Not if you shut the door. And barricade it."  
  
Brief silence. Television noise. "So do *you* want a an official Red Rider carbine action 200 shot range model air rifle for Christmas?"  
  
"It's Christmas Eve, I should hope you've already gotten me my presents."  
  
"You just said 'presents'."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I thought we agreed to get each other just one present."  
  
"No, I said that I was getting *you* just one present. You, being the older brother, are obligated to get me at least three presents."  
  
"When did that start?"  
  
"Since I broke my leg and became a princess."  
  
"Ah. Whups, that's Grandmother again. I'll go open the door for you—"  
  
"Lex!"  
  
"Have fun. See you in a few hours."  
  
"I'm burning your present!"  
  
*  
  
"Come in."  
  
"Are you—wow."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Well… Well. It's not candles."  
  
"True. Instead of having hair that's on fire, I just *wish* someone would set it on fire."  
  
"At least—there's really nothing I can say that's going to make you feel better."  
  
"People are going to point."  
  
"And most likely laugh."  
  
"Thanks for the support."  
  
"Really, it looks fine."  
  
"It looks stupid."  
  
"It doesn't look stupid."  
  
"I have pinecones on my head."  
  
"But you don't have to worry about how you smell."  
  
"Such a comfort. Hand me the remote, I want to turn the movie back on."  
  
"Have you done your makeup yet?"  
  
"I'm going to now." Silence. "Are you going to *watch* me?"  
  
"I've always been fascinated by the process. I remember an anthropology class I took, last year. The professor said that women of the modern Western world use makeup in the same way that soldiers use armor. Not just for protection or concealment, but for confidence."  
  
"Your professor is master of the obvious."  
  
"Which—"  
  
"Hold on. This part's great."  
  
"Trust you to like the one scene with physical violence."  
  
"It makes me feel better about all the times I've been bullied by you."  
  
"When have I ever bullied you?"  
  
"Any number of times. But I've always taken comfort in my natural superiority."  
  
"Remember who knows what 'phrenology' means."  
  
"I know what it means."  
  
"I knew before you."  
  
"You had a four year head start on intellectual development."  
  
"Three and a half. And if you were really determined, you could have caught up by now."  
  
"What are we arguing about?"  
  
"I'm trying to bully you."  
  
"Shut up and give me my purse."  
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"Over there on the chair. Under the dress."  
  
"Nice dress."  
  
"I'm going to roast."  
  
"Well, you're not going to be doing much exercise, so you'll be fine. Here."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"What's in that?"  
  
"In this?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"It's a lipstick case."  
  
"You have a special case just for lipstick?"  
  
"After all these years, I would have thought you were an expert on women, Lex."  
  
"Well, there are certain doors that are closed to me. Does this mean you have specialized cases for everything?"  
  
"No, just the lipstick."  
  
"Really."  
  
"Really. Didn't you ever see Mom do this?"  
  
"She never let me watch her get ready for parties."  
  
"She let me."  
  
"You're a girl."  
  
"Was she afraid it would scar your psyche?"  
  
"I think Dad was worried it would give me ideas."  
  
"Dammit. That should've been my line."  
  
"He wanted to know why I wasn't bringing someone."  
  
"He didn't ask me."  
  
"Well, there haven't been rumors floating around about your sexual preference."  
  
"Hm. Maybe I should think about joining the school rugby team. Get a little scandalous."  
  
"You'd have more luck joining the crew team. From what I've heard about your school."  
  
"I won't even ask about the source. So, speaking of sexual preferences. What's Clark doing for Christmas?"  
  
"Probably wassailing around Smallville and baking cookies for Santa."  
  
"He seems like the type."  
  
"You've never met him."  
  
"Yet I already feel like he's my brother-in-law."  
  
"I'm going to get my jacket."  
  
"We still have an hour."  
  
"I just want an excuse to leave in a huff."  
  
"Oh. Then by all means."  
  
*  
  
"Come in."  
  
"Are you ready?"  
  
"Almost. I have to get my earrings in."  
  
"You look nice. Red's your color."  
  
"Thanks. You look good, too. Although the handkerchief's a little jaunty."  
  
"It's Christmas Eve."  
  
"And this is the one time of year to pay tribute to Santa Claus, but maybe you shouldn't have his head poking out of your breast pocket."  
  
"It matches my socks."  
  
"Ooh, I'm sold now."  
  
"And my boxers."  
  
"Ew. Ew, and I didn't need to know that. Change your handkerchief. And your socks."  
  
"My boxers, too?"  
  
"Shut… up! And I don't care, and ew. And change them before Dad sees you."  
  
"Wait a minute. I love this part."  
  
"The bunny outfit? Is there something you want to tell me?"  
  
"I never went to *that* kind of club. No, I mean this…"  
  
"…Awww. Ralphie gets his heart's desire."  
  
"And then shoots his eye out."  
  
"Well, that's a valuable lesson about getting what you want."  
  
"No, it isn't. It's a valuable lesson about knowing how to use what you have."  
  
"Trust you to turn this movie into a Machiavellian… something."  
  
"It's true! He's spent the entire movie begging for this one thing, and now that he's got it, he doesn't know what to do. He ends up not only hurting himself, but destroying one of his most valuable tools, which he'd taken for granted throughout the movie but which enables him to function in normal society."  
  
"You mean his glasses?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Silence. "Huh."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You're looking at me—"  
  
"Like lobsters are coming out of your ears?"  
  
"Something like that, yes."  
  
"You just… I'm wondering what kind of mob boss you'd make."  
  
"I'd never be a mob boss."  
  
"It's because they wear pinstripe, isn't it?"  
  
"Pretty much. Okay, the movie's over. Let's go."  
  
"First, go change your handkerchief."  
  
"Fine." 


	9. Auld Lang Syne

1.1 "Auld Lang Syne"  
  
"'Lo?"  
  
"Happy New Year, Lilly."  
  
"Wha'?"  
  
"Happy—were you *asleep?* It's 2002."  
  
"Lec?"  
  
"Yes. Wake up."  
  
"Hold… Hold on. What time is it?"  
  
"12:01 am. You obviously missed the 'Happy New Year' portion of this conversation."  
  
"Well, if it happened at the beginning, then yeah, I probably did. What do you want?"  
  
"Just to wish you joy and success for the new year."  
  
"At this time of night?"  
  
"Most people are awake right now."  
  
"Most people are also singing Auld Lang Sing or whatever right now, too."  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"My point being that I don't do what most people do. So what are you doing calling me? Shouldn't you be partying with the Smallvillans?"  
  
"I decided to spend a quiet night in."  
  
"So Clark had to get up early tomorrow and couldn't make a night of it."  
  
"Can we just leave it at 'Clark and I are just friends?'"  
  
"There's no fun in that, so no."  
  
"I don't want to get into yet another round of 'Am Not Are Too' with you tonight."  
  
"Fine. I won't say anything. Although I am surprised that you're not in town, partying at the clubs."  
  
"I just—didn't feel like it. And don't start with me coming back home—"  
  
"I wasn't going to!"  
  
"You did it for a month before Christmas."  
  
"Yeah, and then you actually *did* come home. And *I* had to clean up the mess you made at that party last week."  
  
"'Mess' is a little harsh."  
  
"You called Dad a blood-sucking bastard."  
  
"He is."  
  
"In front of Grandmother and Aunt Leslie."  
  
"They already know he is."  
  
"And about a hundred guests."  
  
"Well. There's that."  
  
"Yeah. So, I'm not inviting you home for a little while. At least not until you tone down the drama."  
  
"The drama?"  
  
"It's like a greek play every time. Without togas. The Son Returns. The Father And Son Have A Fight. The Son Leaves. The Father Sulks. The Daughter Needs An Aspirin, But No One Is Around Because The Son Gave Everybody Christmas Off And Didn't Stick Around To Take Care Of His Crippled Sister."  
  
"You needed an aspirin?"  
  
"The Son Has Dawning Revelation That He's An Idiot."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"It's okay. I've resolved to be more forgiving."  
  
"Really. What else?"  
  
"Well—wait. 'What else?' Do you have some suggestions?"  
  
"So, so many."  
  
"Are you implying that I could be, in some way, improved?"  
  
"I think I'm telling you, rather than implying. So?"  
  
"I hate you. Um, I resolved to be more careful with my body. Not break it so often."  
  
"Very wise."  
  
"And write to people, not just promise that I'll write."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Are you approving of my resolutions, or what?"  
  
"Honestly, I'm fishing for ideas."  
  
"It's a little late to be resolving things now."  
  
"New Year's snuck up on me."  
  
"Snuck, or sneaked?"  
  
"I don't know. Crept."  
  
"And since when has anything ever crept up on you, in the whole course of history?"  
  
"I've been very involved with the plant—"  
  
"Last year you had that huge list that you started in November."  
  
"I didn't have the time this year for—"  
  
"Seven pages long."  
  
"There were a lot of projects needing—"  
  
"I had to physically restrain you from cross-referencing it on Lotus Notes."  
  
"I couldn't really—"  
  
"One of the resolutions was 'Be Less Dweeby."  
  
"I don't remember that."  
  
"That's because I added it for you."  
  
"How thoughtful."  
  
"I think you should resolve to get together with Clark."  
  
"Lilly, I'm about to make a resolution to be more fratricidal if you keep this up."  
  
"I'm serious. You could really have something special with him."  
  
Silence. "All right. Disregarding, for just a moment, the fact that I have absolutely no romantic interest in Clark, why are you encouraging me all of a sudden? You've been the one telling me what a bad idea any relationship would be. Not that I'm interested."  
  
"That was before my New Year's Resolutions."  
  
"So one of them is, 'Persuade brother to break Kansas laws pertaining to sodomy and child molesting?'"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"We're a very strange family, sometimes."  
  
"Think about it this way. We put the 'funky' in 'dysfunctional.'"  
  
Silence.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There's no 'k' in 'dysfunctional.'"  
  
"There's a 'c.'"  
  
"Which would spell 'funcy.'"  
  
"I think that's a sponge."  
  
"Goodnight, Lilly."  
  
"Goodnight, Bumpy."  
  
"You didn't, by any chance, make a resolution to stop calling me that, did you?"  
  
"No."  
  
Sigh. "'Night. Don't forget about the museum opening. It's in two weeks."  
  
"Oh, I'm all a-tingle. You know, Alexander the Great was gay."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'm just throwing it out there."  
  
"Good*night*."  
  
"Happy New Year." 


	10. Rogue

Rogue  
  
"Where have you been? I wanted to introduce you to Clark."  
  
"What was *that*?"  
  
"What was what?"  
  
"You didn't think I'd see him, did you?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Victor is here."  
  
"Her name's Victoria."  
  
"He's a drag queen."  
  
"*She* is a woman."  
  
"Oh, like those are real. And what the hell are you two doing, making out in the middle of a party? This party especially."  
  
"How do--"  
  
"Surveillance camera."  
  
"You were spying on me?"  
  
"Okay, a) feel fortunate that I'm not Bruce, and b) I wasn't just spying on you, I was spying on your Adonis and this other completely adorable blonde guy who must've gotten lost. And c)...I forgot what c) was. Where did that blonde guy get to?"  
  
"How did you get into the camera room?"  
  
Sigh. "I got bored, went upstairs to talk with Joe the Shmo, he let me sit with him and check out all the surveillance stuff. Incidentally, I got a few really cute pictures of you and Clark. I think he likes you."  
  
"Pictures?"  
  
"I just used the freeze-frame. Joe's going to drop them off tomorrow."  
  
"You're going to use them as blackmail, or as next year's Christmas card cover?"  
  
"Those are both excellent ideas."  
  
"I don't even know who Joe is."  
  
"The rent-a-cop guy who's running the Luthor wing security until Dad hires somebody else. Nice guy. He was the one sorting out the logistics of 400 people in one wing of the museum, while you were busy trying on the breastplate."  
  
"It fit perfectly, you know.'"  
  
"So why *is* Victor... ia here?"  
  
"She wanted to talk."  
  
"That's hard to do when you're licking her diphthong."  
  
Silence. "Her what?"  
  
"The... dangly thing at the back of the throat."  
  
"That's the uvula."  
  
"Then what's a diphthong?"  
  
"How much did the camera catch?"  
  
"Way too much. Lex, she's evil. She's more evil than you. She's going to use you just like the last time."  
  
"I know."  
  
"But you're taking her back to Smallville with you tonight."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Okay, fine. None of my business. I'm just the sister. Whatever."  
  
"Should you be standing so much?"  
  
"Lex, it's been a month. More than. I'm fine--the leg's almost healed, anyway. Another few weeks and the cast'll be off."  
  
"I'll miss it."  
  
"Because you won't be able to walk away from me when I annoy you?"  
  
"Does it count as an insult, if you're the one insulting yourself, and I'm just nodding my head in agreement?"  
  
"That wasn't an insult, it was an observation into your behavior whenever I say something that disturbs your equilibrium. Hey, Lana's here."  
  
"With her quarterback."  
  
"The blonde guy's her boyfriend? Way to go, Lana. I take it you didn't invite him."  
  
"I had my qualms about inviting her, to be honest. I don't think Clark knows what to do around women."  
  
"Maybe he knows what to do around men."  
  
"Walking away now."  
  
*  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hey, your friend the rent-a-cop--"  
  
"Joe the Shmo?"  
  
"Yeah. Did he ever deliver those photos to you?"  
  
"I... no, he didn't. Says he can't find them. Why?"  
  
"Because Phelan's got them."  
  
"Phelan. God. What's he want now?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but he's looking for Clark; claims Clark saw the bus accident last night."  
  
"Why couldn't he just look Clark--oh. He doesn't know Clark's name, he just has the pictures."  
  
"He showed me a photo of Clark and me, asked if I knew him."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"I didn't say anything. You think Joe could've given him the pictures?"  
  
"Maybe. I don't know that much about him. What's on his resume, which isn't a whole lot. You want me to find out why he gave Phelan the pictures?"  
  
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble."  
  
"Not at all. Only too happy to help. Anything for family."  
  
"Lilly--"  
  
"You didn't even bother to stick around and see if I'd get home all right."  
  
"You have a limousine at your service, you don't need me--"  
  
"Is she still there?"  
  
Sigh. "Yes, she is."  
  
"And she's got a scheme."  
  
"Yes, she does."  
  
"And you want me to just forget about what happened the last time."  
  
"I'd settle for you shutting up about it." Silence. "Lilly. Lilly? Hello? Damn."  
  
*  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Joe had a DUI on his record before; Phelan threatened to tell the museum about it if he didn't deliver some pictures of you and various party guests--specifically, people who hadn't been seen at your parties before. I'm assuming Phelan was already on a first-name basis with most of your city friends."  
  
"Thank--"  
  
"I also talked with Daddy's new boy in the force, and he made a point of telling me that the bus accident from last night was just an accident. There wasn't anything unusual. Even though I didn't *ask* about it, I just asked for information about Phelan's activities. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I can get the file on the investigation, if you want."  
  
"No, I don't think that's necessary. Probably just using it as an excuse to get to Clark. Thank you."  
  
"Why would he want to get to Clark?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Whatever. Bye."  
  
"Lil--damn."  
  
*  
  
"What?"  
  
"You know I hate it when you hang up on me."  
  
"That's why I did it."  
  
"Don't be mad. She's not--we're not--"  
  
"Yeah, you are. And every time she comes into your life, something bad happens. You get expelled, or you blow up a building, or you get arrested. Can't you just learn from your mistakes like a normal human being?"  
  
"I have learned from my mistakes. I don't trust her, and I'm not about to get involved with her."  
  
"Yes, you are. This is going to end messy, I know it."  
  
"What, you have precognition now?"  
  
"She's going to cheat you again."  
  
"Lilly, I know that. This isn't serious--this is a game to her."  
  
"It's a dangerous game. Dad won't be happy."  
  
"Dad won't find out." Silence. "Lilly."  
  
"That's true. He won't."  
  
"Because he already knows."  
  
Silence. "Oops. Sorry."  
  
"You don't sound like it."  
  
"That's because I'm lying."  
  
"Lilly, what I do is my own business."  
  
"When you're doing Victoria Hardwick, it becomes other peoples' business in a hurry. I was just trying to beat the rush."  
  
"Why are you so worried?"  
  
"Because I'm scared, okay? I'm scared that you're going to do something stupid, and then Dad's going to do something stupid, and I'm going to have to testify in court that I really had no choice, judge, in killing off both my father and brother because they were DRIVING ME NUTS."  
  
"Short trip."  
  
"Lex--"  
  
"It's all right, it's all right. Look... I know what I'm doing. You trust me, right?"  
  
"When you're not behind a wheel, yes."  
  
"Then please, just trust me on this. It'll be fine. Give me some time, and everything will be back to normal."  
  
"Okay. I've... I've got to go. School night."  
  
"It's eight o'clock."  
  
"G'night, Lex."  
  
*  
  
"...So was Clark there?"  
  
"No. I don't... I don't think so. I called him right after I got home. Apparently he'd been working on some project in the barn the whole night. Of course, his parents are going to back that up, even if he wasn't."  
  
"Lex, you never actually saw him get in the car. Phelan just went to the farm and came back, you said."  
  
"I know. But that camera tape--"  
  
"Why are you gunning so hard for Clark to be evil?"  
  
"I suppose... it would make him easier to understand."  
  
"Well, you'll have to settle for him being a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a twinkie."  
  
"What about those bars? That was re-enforced steel, Lilly. Somebody bent them like... like they weren't."  
  
"Something, Lex. The forensic guys say no way did anyone touch these bars. There was some sort of... let's see, where--ah. `Combination of heat and pressure applied.' Meaning Phelan had a contraption that could do that. A machine. Not a person."  
  
"Did they find anything like that at the scene?"  
  
"No, but they're still looking. And just because it wasn't Clark, doesn't mean there wasn't any accomplice. The cute guy at the lab thinks it might have been an inside job. Detectives put Joe through the wringer this morning, asking about his DUI and everything."  
  
"Is Dad letting him keep his job?"  
  
"Oddly enough, yes."  
  
"Very odd."  
  
"I pulled the emotionally distraught daughter thing. He fell for it like a little baby."  
  
"You're worse than I am, sometimes."  
  
"Much, much worse."  
  
"So... are we all right again?"  
  
"As soon as I forgive you for being a moron. Which might take a while."  
  
"You've been forgiving me for that for years, if I remember."  
  
"Does it count as an insult, if you're the one insulting yourself, and I'm just nodding my head in agreement?"  
  
"I don't think it's fair, you stealing my lines like that."  
  
"Deal. And anyway, I have to get to school. Thank God you got that breastplate back; I'm taking it in for show and tell today."  
  
"You're kidding."  
  
"But wouldn't that be a great show and tell item? `This is the breastplate of Alexander the Great, known to his friends as Alexander the Fabulous. It is directly responsible for Liberace's entire career, making Alexander one of the greatest cultural criminals of all time.'"  
  
"I'll talk to you later. Love you."  
  
"You, too. Even if you have godawful taste in women."  
  
"But not in men?"  
  
"Hey! No fair. I have to go to school and you say something like that?"  
  
"'Bye."  
  
"But that's so easy to tease you about! I want to ridicule you now! Dammit." 


	11. Shimmer

Shimmer  
  
"Hey, Lex! How are ya? Doing good? Doing fine? That's great to know."  
  
"What did you do now?"  
  
"Dad's on his way down."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"'Ah'?"  
  
"'Ah.' You'd prefer that I start running around like the girl in the Mentos commercial?"  
  
"Oh, would you? And then, with the guacamole and the towels and the--"  
  
"I'm not doing anything wrong, Lilly. He can't punish me."  
  
"He can get sarcastic and mean. He might even start on the Roman Empire again, and nobody wants that on a Tuesday afternoon."  
  
"Relax. I've got it. Thanks for the warning."  
  
"Any time. I'm like the robot in that `Lost In Space' TV show. `Danger, Will Robinson! Danger, Danger!'"  
  
"Are you on something?"  
  
"...Yeah."  
  
"Crack?"  
  
"Shut up. I... kind of rebroke my leg, so they gave me pretty pills."  
  
"How did--are you all right? You--"  
  
"Lex, I'm fine, I just tried to do too much too soon. They should warn you that the walking cast should not be mistaken for a jogging or a skipping cast. Because those little distinguishing features can really, really make a difference."  
  
"You tried to skip?"  
  
"It was more a hopscotching kind of thing. You know what? Never mind. I'm embarrassing myself."  
  
"Yes, you are. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Sure thing. Try not to get blood on the carpets."  
  
*  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey. You sent Victoria to Metropolis."  
  
"Yes, there've been some accidents. Or attacks. We're not sure, and I thought she'd be safer there."  
  
"That's very noble. You sent her here."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"'Here' meaning not just Metropolis."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"'Here' meaning `the apartment I call "home"'."  
  
"How many quotation marks would that phrase use?"  
  
"Lex!"  
  
"It's not really an apartment. And besides, you've said any number of times that it's my home, too."  
  
"Are you punishing me for something?"  
  
"Is she around? I'll say hi."  
  
"She's out shopping. With my maid. You're letting her stay here?"  
  
"Where else would you suggest?"  
  
"One of the seedier hotels in the Suicide Slums would've been great."  
  
"It's just for a few days. Besides, she can't get up to much; Dad's off in Japan, and you're hardly a mine of information when it comes to LuthorCorp."  
  
"You are punishing me for something."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What did I do?"  
  
"Two guesses."  
  
"The mural? You said it was okay!"  
  
"I said okay to a mural, not to a full-scale war on my sanity."  
  
"I gave him specific instructions only to work when you were out of the house."  
  
"Yes. And he manages to not work when I'm in the house admirably. But his presence lingers. As does the scaffolding. And the paints. And the drop cloths."  
  
"He's been there for, like, a day."  
  
"It seems longer."  
  
"And he's the best painter in Italy. The best one who's alive, anyway. He's very expensive. So you're going to say `Thank you very much' to your Christmas present, and take Victoria away from here immediately."  
  
"You should take her out tonight. Show her some of the sights."  
  
"God, you're mean. What's the matter with you?"  
  
"You caught me at kind of a bad moment."  
  
"Meaning what? Since Victoria's here, and I doubt Clark could've succumbed to your charms that fast--"  
  
"I resent all those implications." Silence. "I just came back from the cottage."  
  
"What happened? Are Frank and Sarah all right?"  
  
"They're fine. Amy--you remember Amy?"  
  
"The... daughter. Right. The one with the crush on you?"  
  
"She went overboard on the crush. Seems she's been keeping a shrine of some sort. Of me."  
  
"Phft. A shrine devoted to you?"  
  
"What? It's not out of the realms of possibility. I'm a charismatic guy."  
  
"Uh-huh. Okay. So... what?"  
  
"So they're going back to Metropolis. Getting her some psychiatric care."  
  
"Yes, having a crush on Lex Luthor is a definite indication of lost marbles."  
  
"Just because--"  
  
"Relax, I didn't mean it like that. She's really that far gone?"  
  
"She tried to drown Victoria, vandalized her room, and stole Mom's watch."  
  
"Well, I was with her right up to the last thing, but whatever. Are you feeling okay?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll feel better once they go, though. You'll take Frank and Sarah back, right?"  
  
"Since I'm apparently in charge of the household these days, yes I will. I miss Sarah's hot chocolate."  
  
"Trust you to make a decision gastronomically."  
  
"It's a better thinking organ than some organs that I could mention."  
  
"But you won't."  
  
"But I won't. Anyway, the guy'll be done in a few days."  
  
"You haven't even told me what the picture's going to be."  
  
"It's going to cover up that awful cheapo reproduction Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse thing."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So just think of whatever's going to be there as an improvement."  
  
"Well, then thank you very much. Hey, I've got to go. They're going to leave in a minute."  
  
"Okay. Tell them not to worry about their jobs."  
  
"I'll be sure to do that. Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
*  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"So Jeff is on his way up, too."  
  
"Jeff? Who's--oh, right. The big brother. Why wouldn't he come up with everybody else?"  
  
"Turns out he wanted to kill me, first."  
  
"Another homicidal teenager? What the hell do they put in the water down there?"  
  
"I'm running tests. Trust me."  
  
"If I can tell you what happened next, will you give me a thousand dollars?"  
  
"No, because it's obvious that Clark saved my life."  
  
"DAMMIT. I really wanted the thousand dollars, too."  
  
"You want a thousand dollars? What has your allowance gotten up to, anyway? About ten thousand a month?"  
  
"Don't exaggerate. Seven thousand. And most of it goes to charity, anyway, so don't get all cond...escending on me."  
  
"You almost said `condensating' again, didn't you."  
  
"Shut up. God. Why do I even call you?"  
  
"I actually called you, this time."  
  
"Oh. So what happened? Why the hell did Jeff try to kill you? And how did Clark figure in this time?"  
  
"I think he... he just snapped. He was ranting about how we always treated him and his sister like they were invisible--which, incidentally, he was--and that everything had been fine until I'd sent Amy away."  
  
"Ooh. Sounds like Jeff was a little too close to Amy. So is he going to the same psych ward, or are you going to throw him in jail?"  
  
"No--therapy's probably a worse punishment, in the end. Besides, it's not like it was personal."  
  
"Attempted murder isn't personal?"  
  
"I meant... I meant that he didn't care if I lived or died. He just wanted his family back."  
  
"Huh. Strange way of going about it. So, back up there for a minute. He was *invisible*?"  
  
"I thought I might be able to sneak that one by you?"  
  
"Not a chance."  
  
"Yeah. I couldn't see him."  
  
"And we'll overlook the fact that it was nighttime, and maybe the room was dark."  
  
"No--he was... okay, maybe it was dark, but there was no way I'd miss him. It's been clear for a few days here, and the moon's half-full. Bright enough to see, but I couldn't see him."  
  
"Uh-huh. And so how did Clark get him?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I was knocked out."  
  
"Wow. You got beaten up by *Jeff*? He's the girliest guy I've ever met."  
  
"Apparently lunacy lends a certain strength."  
  
"As does invisibility. So did Clark mention anything about this invisibility thing?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Huh. So you're the only one who's convinced that Jeff was invisible."  
  
"I saw it!"  
  
"Or rather, didn't see it."  
  
"He ran into the scaffolding and now the paint is leaking into the carpet."  
  
"Have Enrique clean it up."  
  
"I gave him the night off. He was looking a little unnerved when Amy and her parents left."  
  
"Probably wondering if you'll ship him off next."  
  
"As far as I know, he doesn't have a shrine devoted to me."  
  
"He might have one devoted to me."  
  
"Enrique strikes you as that type?"  
  
"The shrine type?"  
  
"The straight type."  
  
"Oh. Good point. Maybe he has a shrine to Dad."  
  
Silence.  
  
Laughter. 


	12. Hug

"Hello."

"Is it done?"

"'The Adoration of the Magi'?"

"How did it turn out?"

"You had him paint 'The Adoration of the Magi' on my wall."

"You said you liked the implication of the picture."

"When did I say that? And what the hell did I mean?"

"When we were at the gallery. In Florence. Remember? Five years ago, I spent the summer? We went to that gallery, you were talking about how unlikely it was that Jesus was revered or even known when he was a kid, but that artists could make up any past they liked; you thought that was funny. Come on. You remember."

"I think so. Which gallery?"

"We were in _Florence_. There were a lot of them. I think it was the one with the soft-drink name."

"The Uffizi?"

"Hee."

"You still think that's funny?"

"It's called the Uffizi! What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"You're a little old for that kind of humor."

"Just because I can almost vote, doesn't mean I can't have fun. You're welcome, by the way."

"Thank you."

"I would've gotten you the original, but not even the Luthor charm would work on those guys."

"About this particular version—"

"What?"

"To be honest, I'm afraid to ask this next question."

"Any similarity in appearance between you and the baby Jesus is purely intentional."

"I think my ego's been stroked enough."

"Damn. It was supposed to mock, not stroke. I'll have to go yell at the guy."

"The virgin Mary looks a lot like Mom."

"Well, Dad always said she looked like a Renaissance painting."

"She did."

"I don't really remember."

Silence. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Thank you for taking Victor away."

"She wanted me to say hello."

"Grr."

"I'll pass the sentiment along."

"She has no taste, by the way."

"She's got exceptional taste in men."

"No comment. She came back from that shopping spree with my maid—"

"Do you ever bother to learn their names?"

"What for? They're here for all of two weeks, then they sleep with Dad, and then they're fired. It's easier to just call them 'the maid' and save brain space. Anyway, she came back yammering about this '_chahming'_ boutique she found out on the Avenue, and you know what she was so proud of finding? A leopard-print jacket. She looks like a fifty-dollar hooker."

"She looked all right to me."

"That's because you have no fashion sense. If we ever let you go in a shopping mall without Jean-Paul, you'd come back with stretch jeans and a pleather biker vest again."

"That was a Halloween costume."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Hmph. How are Frank and Sarah doing?"

"As well as anyone can expect. Amy's staying at Metro General for a little while; we shipped Jeff off to Gotham Institute. They're better at treating long-term emotional… whatever it is that he has."

"I hope it helps."

"If it doesn't, we'll just put a lo-jack on him. Besides, GI is good at what they do. Remember Bruce's thing?"

"Right. Maybe they'll room together."

"They'd have fun talking shit about you. But I think Bruce has enough money to get outpatient care, even with his issues. Anyway, I'm glad you like the painting."

"I said 'thank you,' I never said anything about liking it."

"You're funny. What's going on?"

"Not much. I'm fighting off a competitor who wants to reduce Smallville to a wasteland."

"But you got there first! No fair."

"That's what I said. Plus, he annoys me."

"Uh-oh. One of those cheerful folksy back-stabbers that glom onto you and Dad."

"What is it about us that attracts them?"

"Not sure. Maybe it's _your_ cheerful folksiness."

"Don't ever call me folksy again, Lilly. I know where you live."

"Yeah, yeah, tough guy. So who is it?"

"Bob Rickman."

"Don't know him. Wait. No. He was that guy who took Dad to lunch last month."

"With a memory like that, you should be able to remember the names of your maids."

"I only remember because Dad was supposed to go to Tokyo instead, and it got cancelled for some reason. He kept likening 'Bob' to bad sushi at dinner that night."

"So Bob's not getting along too well with Dad, either."

"Nope. So should I expect Bob to appear at one of my gym meets?"

"I don't think this has anything to do with us. He wants to set up a pesticide plant."

"Well, at least Nell's not selling any land to him. I hope."

"Oh, he's not after any of that property—"

"Hee. So to speak."

"Lilly."

"Sorry."

"He wants to buy the Kent farm."

"Aww. His optimism is kind of cute."

"I take it you haven't actually met the man."

"Good point. So, tell Clark's dad to be careful, and not have any pens handy when Bob comes calling."

"Good idea. I'll talk to you later."

"Call me if the Kents decide to sell."

"I think Hell will freeze over, first."

"At least we can go ice-skating when we die. See you."

"Bye."

*

"Buy ice skates."

"You're kidding me."

"Mr. Kent signed the contract this afternoon."

"You're _kidding_ me."

"You already said that."

"What the hell did Bob say to him?"

"I suspect blackmail."

"Pft."

"They've got to have something that can be used."

"Riiight. Speaking of which, your lapdog called here looking for you. Said he had the 'test results' in."

"Yeah, he called earlier. Should be interesting."

"God, Lex. You're such a freak. What could Clark possibly be hiding?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have Roger come down here next week."

"Whatever. One of these days, far into the future, you're going to let this go, right?"

"Don't count on it."

"Okay. Whatever. So, what's going to happen with the Kents?"

"Well, Clark was just here; he wants me to see if there's any way out of it."

"Is there?"

"I called Gil just now. It looks pretty watertight, but there's always some angle. We hire enough lawyers, we'll get them out of it."

"You're hilarious."

"What?"

"The way you're willing to throw yourself in with these people. It never occurred to you that Mr. Kent signed the contract, and now has a case of contract-signer's remorse and wants out. Did it?"

"I know the Kents."

"You _like_ the Kents. Not the same thing. But at least it's in keeping with your personality."

"Which personality is that?"

"Don't get all snotty with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I'm just trying to help a friend."

"Good luck."

"With the lawyers, or with getting the Kents to like me?"

"You _do_ know what I was talking about."

"Bye."

*

"Mph."

"Hey. Lilly. Wake up. I need you to find Toby."

"What?"

"Toby, Dr. Weshersen. His phone's been disconnected—I can only assume because he forgot to pay the phone bill again."

"No—no. Hold up. Dammit, Lex, I'm _asleep_. Can't this wait until morning?"

"I've got a fugitive bleeding on my carpets, so no. It can't. Where is he?"

"He's somewhere in the city, last I heard. His phone's not working? And who's the fugitive? It's not Clark, is it?"

"I'll answer any and all questions later. Find Toby and send him here. Preferably in Dad's helicopter or the plane. The faster, the better."

"Fine. Later."

"I'm going to call back in two minutes and make sure you haven't fallen asleep."

"Okay, okay! God."

*

"Hello?"

"So, I want details."

"It's four o'clock in the morning."

"And you're still up, and I'm still up, so I want details. Who's the fugitive?"

"Some guy named Kyle Radley. Friend of Clark's. Got arrested for assault, but the circumstances are such that it's a little—there are a few questions we're still working out."

"Well, you work away there, busy beaver. Can I ask why Clark came to you for help?"

"No. Clark's got his reporter friend Chloe digging around, so we should have some answers tomorrow."

"Chloe—isn't that the plant manager's kid?"

"Yeah. She edits the school newspaper."

"Okay, there are no adults in Smallville. There're just homicidal kids, and their overindulgent parents."

"And the occasional businessman."

"_Shady_ businessman."

"Are you calling me shady?"

"Of course you're shady. You can't help yourself."

"I'm a victim of genetics."

"Toby give you any guff about his car?"

"Of course. He wouldn't be Toby if he didn't."

"You _did_ replace it, though."

"You can't really replace a Mustang."

"Word."

"What?"

"Okay, Lex? Next time you're channel surfing, give some thought to stopping on MTV for a little while, as opposed to C-SPAN."

"C-SPAN's hip."

"Yeah. Goodnight."

"'Night. Sorry about waking you up."

"If you want me to forgive you, stop mentioning it."

"Forgive and forget?"

"Forget, and then forgive by default."

"Sleep tight."

*

"Hello?"

"So you had him killed?"

"No, I didn't have him killed. He committed suicide."

"Oh, I see. 'No witnesses have come forward yet, but investigators have determined that the fatal injury was self-inflicted.'"

"Where did you get that?"

"_Smallville Ledger_."

"And where did you get _that_?"

"I have a subscription. At a very reasonable price, might I add."

"I'd imagine the courier would be the real cost issue."

"You're avoiding. Bob didn't kill himself."

"As far as I know, he did."

"Lex. What's going on down there?"

"Nothing…"

"Nothing what?"

Sigh. "Nothing that you'd believe."

"Ah. Another homicidal teenager?"

"No. I think we've used up our quota for the year. That fugitive…"

"The one who prompted you to call me at one o'clock in the morning?"

"That very one. He was an old business partner with Bob. Apparently, they had some kind of ability to convince people to do whatever they wanted, just by shaking their hand."

"Good thing you've got that thing about handshakes."

Silence.

"Oh, God. What did he make you do?"

"According to Clark? I tried to kill him."

"Bob?"

"Clark."

"Wow. But you didn't."

"No. Fortunately, Clark knocked me out somehow before I could. And then… Bob killed himself. Or maybe Kyle made him kill himself. It's all… a little blurry, to be honest."

"You tried to kill Clark."

"I don't remember. But they found my fingerprints on the gun, and the shop's got bullet holes all over it."

"What kind of gun?"

"Not a pistol, some sort of machine gun?"

"What happened to the fugitive—Kyle?"

"No one knows. He's gone, that's for sure."

"So, he had this power, too? The convincing power?"

"Yeah. Chloe thinks it eventually drove him into hibernation, out here. In the wilderness."

"Sounds like you."

"At least I don't make sculptures of dead wood and twisted metal to symbolize my existential angst."

"No, you just play head games with your friends and plot world domination."

"We all need hobbies, Lilly."

"So Clark's okay?"

"He's fine. Miraculously unharmed."

"No kidding. Maybe there's something to this whole 'secrets' theory."

"You get on board now?"

"Well, a machine gun's pretty good at hitting its target."

"I know."

"Okay. So—let me get this straight. You tried to kill Clark. You didn't succeed, but you also don't remember anything about trying to kill him."

"Well, Clark hit me pretty hard. Besides, it's not something I really want to remember too clearly."

"I'd imagine. Clark freaked out at all?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to him today."

"You should go over. Bring him flowers or something."

"Shut up."

"Chocolates?"

"Shut _up_."

"Maybe a big stuffed teddy bear… Hello? Hello? Heh."


	13. Leech

"Hey, Bumpy."

"You sound out of breath."

"I'm trying to find my sweater. Sarah reorganized my room, and I can't find anything."

"That bitch."

"Well, _you're_ grumpy."

"Just tired. It's been a long day."

"Aw, poor bunny rabbit."

"How are things?"

"You _must_ be tired, asking me about my life instead of the other way around."

"I take an interest every once in a while."

Silence.

"You're ruining the moment of fraternal affection."

"Since, like Haley's comet, we will not see it again for another 86 years. So what's the matter?"

"I don't really want to talk about—it's a little complicated."

"Lex. Stop worrying about Sir Harry. Dad's not even breaking a sweat over here. He actually thinks you can pull this whole, um, Cadmus Labs? You can pull it off on your own."

"He does?"

"Yeah."

"Wait. How do you know about Sir Harry?"

"Just because you never tell me anything that's going on, doesn't mean Dad doesn't. We believe in communication, in telling each other what we feel, in keeping channels of expression open between family members."

"I take it you and Dad have started the family therapy."

"We've actually got an appointment in half an hour. It's so weird; I feel like I should be wearing harmonizing crystals and talking about our centers of energy. Maybe that's week three. I'm amazed Dad keeps going."

"You said you wanted him to go."

"Yeah, I did. I do. But… I mean, how did he _know_ I wanted us to have therapy? I didn't even tell you about that until after Christmas. Although—"

"What?"

"I'm kind of embarrassed to admit this, but I wrote it on the Wish List. Right before we went to the party."

"The Wish List? That thing's _still_ around?"

"Of course it's still around. I'm sentimental."

"About a notepad stuffed into a chimney?"

"I've had it since I was four!"

"Three. I had to write down what you wanted the first time."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"I'll go check."

"You don't believe me?"

"I thought I was some genius baby who could write by age three."

"You could. You were just a lazy genius baby."

"Oof. This brick was always impossible to get loose."

"Especially since it was never supposed to get loose in the first place."

"The wonders of a chemistry set and no conscience when it comes to destruction of property. The brick still smells a little, you know that?" 

"Of what?"

"Of whatever you used to destroy the mortar around it."

"I did it all for you."

"That's what worries me. What kind of big brother makes a secret hiding place just because his little sister wants to play Pirates with Treasure Maps?"

"My kind, apparently."

Paper rustles. "Well, your seven-year-old handwriting is craptacular."

"Thanks. It's improved some."

"It would have to. 'Dear Santa, Lilly wants'—you wrote the 'y' in my name backwards—'wants a cat, and some yellow socks, and a necklace of real'—spelled 'R-E-E-L—'diamonds. Thanks, Lilly's brother. P.S. I want a new chemistry set, she used mine up.'"

"How endearing."

"Isn't it? Anyway, yeah, I still write my presents down, every Christmas Eve—you didn't even _check_ this year?"

"I didn't know you were still writing it. You're almost eighteen."

"What if I'd asked Santa for something else and I didn't get it?"

"You asked for a few things on that list that you never got."

"Yeah, well, asking for my own moon was a little ambitious."

"'A little'?"

"I was only…six when I wished for that. And I didn't ask for anything else that year."

"Your own moon is quite enough."

"Yeah, too bad I never got it. So, I didn't tell anybody I wanted to have family therapy, and I wrote it on the Wish List, and he tells me Christmas Day that we're getting counseling—which actually makes sense, if you think about what happened the night before—but I don't think he was just doing it out of the goodness of his heart. And I don't know how he knew about it—you didn't have time to check before you pulled your stunt at the party, so you couldn't have said, 'Dad, here's what Lilly wants for Christmas." And we never told Dad about the fake brick, did we?"

"I don't believe so."

"Wait a minute. You _did_ tell him, didn't you?"

"Told him—I'd never tell him something like that."

"You told him about the Wish List!"

"That is a complete—"

"You violated the pact!"

"I did not!"

"You're a big fat bald pact-violator!"

"Three out of those four accusations are totally untrue!"

"You swore—you _pinky_ _swore_—that we'd never ever ever tell Mom and Dad about the List. Pinky swore!"

"I am hurt and offended that you'd think I would tell Dad about something as sacred as the Wish List."

"Whatever. When did you tell him? I know it has to be this year, because you always bought my Wish List presents before."

"_Santa_ brought you the presents."

"_Santa_ needs to remember that if he's going to eat only part of one of the cookies I left for him, I'm going to have Dexter run the DNA."

"When did you do that?"

"Um… I think I was ten."

"You believed in Santa until you were ten?"

"Not 'believed,' I just wanted empirical evidence that he _didn't_ exist. The two Christmases before, I fell asleep keeping watch behind the couch, so I decided to try something else."

"So you had Dexter run the DNA."

"And it came back 'Lex Luthor.' Busted."

"I can't believe you."

"What, you thought I still believed in Santa?"

"There are certain truths that don't need to be exposed, Lilly. I thought it was a nice mutual understanding we had."

"Whatever. So when did you tell Dad?"

"Nice try, but I'm smarter than that, because if I answer that, that will imply—erroneously—that I told Dad about the Wish List."

Silence. "Lex."

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever tell Mom?"

Silence. "Oh."

"Well, however he found out about it… um, thanks."

"Just as long as you don't buy any harmonizing crystals."

"Yeah. Anyway, I've got to go if I don't want to be late."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"I love you a lot, Lex. And don't worry about the takeover, you'll do fine."

"Thanks."

"Bye."

*

"Hellooo, there."

"Hey."

"I'm framing this paper. Sir Harry's expression is absolutely priceless."

"I thought you might like that."

"Beautiful work. Just beautiful. How did you manage it?"

"It was depressingly easy."

"Tricky Vicky ain't so quicky."

"How long have you been waiting to say that?"

"Years. Really."

"I believe it."

"Are you having the Bourbon of Victory right now?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Well, you deserve it. Hey, am I on that speakerphone thing again?"

"How can you tell?"

"Because your voice gets like Lou Gherig."

"Lou Gherig."

"You know. 'Today I consider myself the luckiest man-man-man, on the face-face-face, of the Earth-Earth-Earth.'"

"I see."

"Hold on. Dad wants to talk. Love you. Talk to you later."

"You, too. Bye."


	14. Kinetic

"Hello?"

"You suck!"

"What did I do this time?"

"You had yet another homicidal super-teen running around Smallville and you don't even _call_ me?"

"What, that kid? He was, he's just…"

"Yeah, didn't think you'd be able to finish that sentence. Anyway, what the hell?"

"I don't know. I'm beginning to think this is all a bad dream. One day I'll wake up, and be in a normal town, where people don't throw trucks around and break people in half."

"He broke somebody in half?"

"Well. Clark."

"Clark's broken?!"

"Calm down, he's fine. Just a few cracked ribs. But…"

"You sound kind of pissed."

"I am."

"Because you couldn't kiss it better?"

"_Because_ it means Roger's scenario of what happened couldn't be right. Clarks's normal, and my brain is remembering something that didn't really happen."

"Better than not remembering something that did happen, I guess."

"Hallucinations are better than a bad memory?"

"Well, more exciting."

"Anyway, I'm dropping the whole thing. It's interfering with my ability to function on a day-to-day basis."

Silence.

"Lilly? You still there?"

"I'm having an internal struggle. Give me a minute."

"Oops."

Silence. "Okay. Let the record show that I still want the whole thing to stay dropped, because you getting all nosy about Clark is weird, unless you're going to admit your love for him, in which case, nose away—"

"Lill—"

"But I don't know what Roger's scenario was."

"Didn't I tell you about that?"

"Uh, no."

"Oh. Well, it happened just before everything, so—it doesn't matter, he was wrong. Clark's just a farmer-in-training."

"Just a good old boy, never meanin' no harm."

"Huh. Maybe if I got him a General Lee car, he'd like me."

"Clark likes you already."

"I meant Mr. Kent. He looks a little like the younger one."

"Bo Duke?"

"Yeah."

"Mr. Kent looks like Bo Duke?"

"Yes."

"_Really_?"

"Please tell me you're over your crush on the Dukes of Hazzard."

"I'll never be over my crush on the Dukes of Hazzard! They're beautiful!"

"You're deeply disturbed."

"Shut up. Mr. Piggy."

"Don't bring that up."

"Sittin' in the living room, watchin' the Muppet Show, sticking pins into a Voodoo Kermit doll. And _I'm_ disturbed."

"Eleven-year-olds have weird ideas."

"'Eleven.' Right. Because you're so totally over her."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"What were we talking about?"

"No clue. Hey, what did you get me for my birthday?"

"It's your birthday soon?"

"Lex."

"Because the e-mail that I get every morning, saying, 'List of Things To Do: Get Lilly a present, get Lilly another present, drive ass up to Metropolis to give Lilly presents, get Lilly another present while in Metropolis—'"

"You're just reading it off the monitor."

"But I don't have to, is my point. Since you've sent me the same e-mail for a week now."

"I'm just trying to make sure you come. With presents."

"Well, I could always wrap up Mr. Kent for you."

"That's gross. And also intriguing."

"Talk to you later."

"Bye. Love you."

*

"Hello, Dad. I've been meaning to call you—"

"Hello, son! How's business? Those adolescents staying nice and non-homicidal for ya?"

"Wow, Lilly, you had me completely fooled."

"I'm a brilliant mimic."

"Enrique said Dad wanted to talk to me."

"Well, he did, but then you didn't get on the phone within five seconds, so he started muttering, but instead of hanging up, he tossed the phone to me. Thereby forcing me to figure out something clever to talk about so you wouldn't feel like an idiot."

"You failed."

"But I failed with style. Did you get the invitation?"

"Yes, and the costume."

"Hee hee."

"I'm not wearing it."

"You have to! It's a masquerade, the whole point is to wear costumes and be all—"

"The whole point is to be someone you're not, and disguise yourself."

"Which you do all the time, anyway."

"The guests are supposed to choose their own costumes."

"That's the virtue of being the birthday girl. I get to make my own rules. And it's scientifically chosen, so you can't argue."

"Scientifically chosen?"

"Well, I put pictures of everyone I was inviting on my webpage, and asked my readers whom they most resembled, and it was either that or Ghandi, so I thought—"

"I'm not wearing the costume."

"Bruce is wearing his."

"Who did they think _he_ looked like?"

"Young Clint Eastwood. He does, too."

"Hmph. So Bruce'll be there?"

"Apparently he got three out of his four personalities to agree to come, yes. And he's bringing a _big_ present. And dressing up like Clint Eastwood."

"At least Clint Eastwood's a real person. Lilly, I hate to hang up, but I'm kind of in the middle of something with—"

"Hold on. Oh, we've got to go. Apparently Dad wanted to discuss the new parking lot you're building in Smallville, but he says… that it can keep. He's being kind of mean today."

"Is he right there in the room?"

"Yep. And giving me a dirty look. And handing me my coat. Got to go."

"Were are you going?"

"Opera. Again."

"Have fun."

"Bye."

*

"Whazzuuuuuup?!?"

Silence.

"Bumpy?"

"Okay, it is you."

"Duh. Sorry. I'm watching TV. There's a really annoying commercial on. Wait a sec… okay. So, what's up?"

"Well—here's the thing."

"I'm so nervous when you start conversations like this."

"Someone broke into the house last night."

"Oh, that. I know."

Silence. "And how do you know?"

"Because I can read."

"I'm going to have to start bribing people at the Ledger if they keep telling you about my life before I get a chance to—"

"Spin it?"

"Present my side of the story."

"Paper says you didn't report anything stolen."

"Well, not much was stolen."

"I have a feeling that you're lying right now."

"Would I lie to you?"

"In a second. Is Chloe Sullivan all right?"

"No, but she will be. It could've been a lot worse."

"It says she was over at your house and got thrown out the window. What was she doing there?"

"I'd have thought that Dr. Morrisette would have filled Dad in on all the details by now."

"What's Dr. Morrisette have to do with anything?"

"He and his posse flew in last night to work on Chloe."

"Well, I'm sure he told Dad. Dad, however, neglected to tell me."

"I thought the therapy was all about channels of communication."

"Yeah, well, therapy didn't take into account the fact that Dad has no sense of humor."

"Uh-oh."

"It's nothing, I _thought_ he'd be over it by now, but he gave me the silent treatment the whole week, and… oh, whatever. He's just dumb."

"What'd you do?"

"Well. Somebody dropped off a packet the other day for Dad. It was all these Photoshopped pictures of him. So I messed with his head a little bit."

"You opened the packet?"

"Of course I opened the packet. I live here, I snoop here. So I took one of the pictures and put it in Dad's briefcase to freak him out, and now he's all mad."

"You put one in his briefcase."

"Right before he went into the meeting with the board about Hardwick Enterprises. He was _so_ pissed."

"Really."

"Yeah. He actually grounded me for two days."

"That must have been terrible. What were the pictures of?"

"Oh… just, you know, some compromising pictures. If it wasn't obvious they were fake."

"It's obvious they were fake?"

"Well—okay, they were really good fakes but there's no way he would've been doing… what… he was doing. With the person he was apparently doing it with. But it was so bizarre—he usually thinks that kind of thing is hilarious, and this time he just flipped for some reason."

"So much for channels of communication."

"Yeah. Anyway, Chloe. She was at your house for a booty call, or what?"

"Chloe and Clark were there—"

"Woah!"

"—Interviewing me for an article she's writing."

"Oh."

"You're disgusting."

"Hee, but I didn't say anything, and you just automatically assumed that's what I was thinking about."

"You're always thinking about that with Clark."

"So are you."

"Shut up."

"You let Chloe interview you? You hate interviews."

"That's why I let her do it. If I only give interviews to the up-and-coming kids—"

"Then you don't have to answer the tough questions, because they haven't learned yet how to press for answers. Plus, they'll feel grateful to you."

"Sometimes you're inconveniently psychic."

"Part of my charm. So Clark was there?"

"Operating the camera. Or trying to."

"And he didn't manage to save the day?"

"Trust me, he's already beaten himself up over it quite enough."

"Maybe he should. He's hazardous to people's health."

"He's hazardous to his own health."

"That, too. So his ribs are all better."

"Um… yeah, they are. He seems fine again. But he didn't save Chloe from falling, so he's obviously to blame for what happened to her."

"He's so cute when he's angsty."

"No comment."

"So, Chloe'll be all right, and you apparently had nothing stolen, so what was the thing?"

"The 'thing'?"

"You said there was a thing."

"I said—right. I wanted to know if you were still friends with Charlie."

"Charlie from MetroSecurity? Yeah."

"Damn."

"What?"

"I was going to fire him."

"_Fire_ _him_?!"

"But, judging by the tone in your voice, I won't be doing that."

"Fucking A right you won't be doing that! What the hell?"

"They broke into my house last night and into my safe, and that's not supposed to happen!"

"Well, then—then maybe the house breaker-inners were supernatural people too! But you don't just fire people because—"

"Because the service for which I hired them has been rendered futile by supernatural bad guys?"

"Right! God, just, I don't know, yell at him or something, don't _fire_ him. He's trying his best!"

"He needs to try a little harder, if he wants to stay my chief of security."

"Well, I kind of agree there."

"Actually living somewhere around here might be a step in the right direction."

"Call him up and tell _him_ that. It's not my fault."

"You hired him."

"I did not. I actually did, but MetroSecurity really is the best, so it wasn't just because—"

"Because you still have a crush on him."

"Stop finishing my sentences. And shut up."

"No denial there?"

"Hanging up now. Yell at somebody else."

"I'll do that."

*

"Hello?"

"I thought Smallville was overdue for a parking lot."

"Lilly, it's two in the morning."

"I am very well aware of that. I am also aware that Dad just came in, tossed some plan on my bed, and said you were starting a competition against Starbucks, and walked out. Which I guess is my cue to berate you, since you and Dad are still doing that weird don't-acknowledge-each-other's-existence thing."

"We acknowledge each other's existence."

"Not by choice. Are you going to tell me why the two of you—"

"No."

"_Fine_. So. The Talon."

"Yes."

"It looks nice."

"You think it looks nice?"

"You honestly want me to tell you what I really think?"

"Not at two a.m., I don't."

"Okay. It looks great. G'night."

"Wait."

"What?"

Sigh. "What do you really think?"

"Look, I'm tired too. I just wanted to let you know that Dad was all pissed off for a whole new reason, now."

"He wanted the parking lot, instead?"

"He wants the heir to behave like an heir, not a rival."

"Maybe he should start treating me like one."

"Well, maybe you should talk to him about that."

"Hmph."

"Okay, I can't keep my eyes open, so I'm going to throw this projection—which looks like absolute ass, by the way, I can't believe somebody actually convinced you to do this with _this_ piece of shit—away, and go to sleep."

"Heh."

"What?"

"You read any of it?"

"Just looked at the sketches. Why?" 

"Read the title page."

Paper rustles. "What about it?"

"Okay, put your glasses on and read it."

"Oh. My. God."

"Lana Lang, entrepreneur."

"And Nell Potter, crack whore. Together again in the hit sci-fi comedy series 'Smallville'. God, I really just hate them both beyond all reason."

"You really do."

"Now I won't be able to sleep."

"Sorry."

"I'm going to set rats loose in this place the minute I get there."

"It's opening the night after your birthday party. You sure you'll be up to it?"

"You wear the costume and I'll come."

"That was the wrong tactic."

"You wear the costume and I won't come."

"That's a better offer."

"'Night."

"Good night."


	15. Zero

Zero

"Hello?"

"Augh!"

"_Lex_?"

"Sorry. Needed to let off a little steam."

"Ooookay."

"What?"

"Well, you don't usually yell like that."

"I'm getting in touch with my more primal nature."

"Ooookay."

"How's life?"

"Doin' dandy. Harriet and Jane just left."

"What were you crazy kids doing?"

"Mourning our single status on this, the most important day of the year."

"I thought Valentine's Day was a fascist commercial holiday meant to drain the hope out of—"

"Shut. Up."

"Okay."

"Hey, I found a contractor for you."

"Thank God. That's what I was calling about."

"I thought you were calling me to ask how life was?"

"That, too."

"Is that what the yell was all about?"

"Lana Lang has been calling me every day, asking when I can give her a contractor."

"I thought you told her you 'had people on it,' or something."

"I did. I do. I have you. Remember, this budget's pretty tight."

"The last person you need to tell that to is me. Incidentally, I'm taking a share in this thing if it ever gets big. I don't want Miss Lang getting all the credit."

"She's the decorator."

"As long as Nasty Nell doesn't get anywhere near the design sketches."

"Deal. So who did you get?"

"Just some contractor who's willing to schlep out to Smallville every day for a month. Seems okay. He renovated some warehouse on the edge of Suicide Slums, and it looked all right."

"I was hoping for something a little higher-scale."

"Dude? Your budget calls for Crazy Al's Plumbing and Carpeting. This was the best I could do."

"Thanks."

"Glad to help. This is going to be interesting, a Luthor with a coffee house."

"Almost as novel as a Luthor with a functional family."

"Would you just call Dad and get whatever it is over with?"

"Stay out of it, Lill."

"Then stop getting your bad mojo all over me."

"Sorry."

"He's coming down tomorrow, around ten o'clock."

"Dad?"

"No, Paranoid Android, the contractor. Ten o'clock, don't be late, because he's a little snippy."

"Ten a.m.?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well—this is Lana's project, and she'll still be in school."

"Lana?"

"Miss Lang's project."

"That's better."

"You should give her a chance; she's not as bad as you think."

"If she's genetically linked to Nell Potter, she's exactly as bad as I think."

"How bad is that?"

"Bad enough to be genetically linked to Nell Potter. _Anyway_, he'll probably be able to fix everything for you, but there's apparently an old saying that whatever your budget and time scale is, double it."

"I never heard that."

"Well, you've also never done anything like this before."

"I'm well aware."

"Relax, you're just the money. It's not your problem."

"It's _my_ money."

"Yeah, but there's not much of it. You'll be fine. Just go put a towel on your head or something. I'll call the contractor and see if I can reschedule for after school lets out."

"Thanks."

"Bye."

*

Three weeks later

*

Beep. "Bumps, pick up. Pick up! Dammit, the one time I want to talk and you leave your cell phone—anyway, it's me, and I wanted to ask you what the deal is with the cows. Dad's secretary just called for him, apparently there was some kind of spill out in Smallville. Dead cows, I don't know. I don't want to sound too paranoid, but I have a feeling you're manufacturing this whole thing so you can weasel out of coming to the party. You have to come, and you have to wear the costume, and you have to give me presents. I got you a killer contract deal and you owe me so big-time, so get your toxic-spilled ass up here by six, 'cause I need help getting everything ready. Dad's not going to horn in on this, of course, since you two still aren't talking to each other, but I think it might be a good idea if both of you remember that the most important person tonight is me. Or I. Whatever. Be here. Bye."

*

Beep. "Hey, Bumpy, it's eight o'clock and you haven't shown up yet, so I'm calling to make sure you're really coming. Because if you don't, I'm driving down tomorrow with my rabid sewer rats and radioactive cockroaches. Um, almost everybody's here already, which is very uncool, but I think most of my friends have given up any and all pretense of being cool. Except for Bruce, who's _trying_ to be cool and taking a left-hand turn at 'being freaky-deaky.' I don't think his outfit's helping, since he brought a big rifle and hasn't shaved for three days and looks like he's going to have an 'episode,' to quote Alfred, any second now. So… hurry up, because I want to open presents soon."

*

Beep. "Lex, it's Lilly. Listen, don't come. Get yourself somewhere safe—Charlie just called, told me about Kasitch and the hand and everything. Um, I'm really starting to get worried, so call me as soon as you can. Call me before you even call Clark—I just called the house, and they said he's been calling every hour or so, too. And I know you love him best, but still, I really need to hear that you're all right. I've sent everybody home, except Bruce and Alfred—they're staying for a few days, maybe. Anyway. Call. Soon. And after I know you're okay, I'm going to kick your ass so hard for not telling me about the… God, ew, the hand. Okay. Bye. Call me."

*

"Nice place."

"Thanks."

"That really wasn't a compliment for you."

"What, was it a compliment to the contractor?"

"Just because he was a homicidal maniac doesn't mean he couldn't put together a nice place."

"You're a bitter, bitter woman. So, you want me to introduce you around?"

"Nah. I think I'll just chat people up."

"Don't even think about doing what I know you're thinking about doing."

"What?"

"Clark's here."

"My, yes, he certainly is, isn't he? Looking pretty sharp, too."

"You don't want me to introduce you so you can do something mean, right?"

"Well, I didn't get to see you in the costume."

"I'm so glad I invited you to this."

"I'll bet you are. Later."

*

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Um, I know this sounds kind of lame, but do I know you?"

"I don't think so. Lilly, nice to meet you."

"Clark. Clark Kent."

"Right."

"You a friend of Lana's?"

"Oh, her aunt and my dad go way back, yeah. It's a great party."

"Definitely."

"Interesting picture Lana just put up."

"Yeah, actually, my grandfather took it, back when this place opened."

"The first time?"

"Yeah."

"Must've been a while ago."

"Yeah."

"You're not much for small talk, Clark Kent."

"Well, I'm not—you just look really familiar."

"I've got that kind of a face."

"Oh." Silence. "So, you live in Smallville?"

"I like to think of it more like a second home. It's a nice place. Kind of…"

"Small?"

"I was going to say something like 'scenic,' or 'quaint,' but your adjective works."

"Thanks. Um, so, you like it?"

"Smallville, or the Talon? Or the suit you're wearing?"

"Uh—um. All three, I guess."

"Smallville's great, the Talon's commendably rat-free, and your suit is too small for you."

"Yeah, I grow out of them pretty fast."

"Stop drinking so much milk."

"Heh. Um, I'm going to go get a drink. You want anything? Milk?"

"Was that a rib at my height, Clark Kent?"

"No. Yeah, a little."

"In my defense, everyone's Lilliputian next to you."

"Just as long as nobody ties me down in a field like those guys did."

"It'd probably be better than being tied _up_ in a field."

"How did you—"

"Smallville, small town."

"Uh. Well, I'm going to get that drink. You sure you don't want anything."

"I'm sure. It was nice to meet you, Clark Kent."

"You too, Lilly…"

"Bye." Silence. 

"I leave you alone for two minutes, you're stirring up trouble."

"I wasn't stirring up trouble. Is that my drink?"

"Yes. What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, no. What did you say to him?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Lilly."

"Lex. Give me my drink. He's nice. I like him."

"So do I."

"Yeah, but I'm not writing 'I heart Clark' in my account book."

"They're computerized."

"'I heart Clark'?"

"The accounts."

"He's very…"

"Whenever you make that face, you're about to say something terrible."

"Quaint. He's very quaint."

"Quaint?"

"And scenic. You and he still on speaking terms?"

"I think so. He asked me about Amanda a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, I saw you go green at the gills. What did you tell him?"

"As much of the truth as I could."

"Poor Amanda."

Silence. "So, you want to go home?"

"I guess. Bruce is still there; probably—"

"I meant, Smallville home. Come on, I think Enrique even made up your room."

"Aw. Always a perfect maid, that Enrique. Don't you want to stick around, commiserate with Lana Lang about the grand opening?"

"Not particularly. Besides, I never gave you your birthday present."

"Let's blow this popsicle stand."

*

"Hee hee hee!"

"It's just a riot to you, isn't it?"

"Well, not so much the outfit, as the fact that you're wearing a bald cap with just a little bit of hair around the—"

"How could people think I look like Captain Picard? I don't look anything like him."

"Au contraire."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my camera."

"Oh, no, you're not."

"Leggo!"

"What if I want to run for office one day?"

"Ow! Then you'll have to pay me a lot of money to keep these out of the public eye!"

"Lilly, don't you dare—"

Click.

"Neener neener neener!"

"You're… a dead woman."

"Set the laser on 'kill,' Scotty."

Silence. "That was the original cast."

"Scotty was in one of the episodes."

"For _The Next Generation_?"

"Yeah."

"He was?"

Click. "Hah! Yeah."

"I'm gonna—"

"Augh!"


	16. Nicodemus

"Good morning."

"Murplg."

"You look somewhat the worse for wear."

"Mphuf. Ahem. That's because this bald freak dressed like Captain Picard chased me around the house with a fake phaser, wrestled me to the ground, and _sat_ on me last night while singing the theme song to 'Star Trek' and tickling me until I nearly threw up."

"Golly."

"Then he threw me in the pool."

"I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, you're gonna be sorrier when I wake up and figure out a way to punish you."

"What do you want to do today besides that?"

"I have to go to the library."

"Ow! What?"

"Hee hee!"

"Pass me a damn napkin, would you?"

"Heh. God seems to be punishing you, maybe I don't need to get involved."

"Napkin, please?"

"Here. I'll bet that hurt."

"Well, it's not McDonalds's coffee temperature, but… _What_ did you say?"

"I said, I have to go to the library. Stop _laughing_ like that, God! I have to get a book for my class report. It's due tomorrow."

"And you can't just have it flown in by courier?"

"I don't need to have it flown in by courier, it's available at the Smallville Library, and it won't kill me to not pay an outrageous amount for something."

"It might."

"Shut up. Do you have a library card I can borrow?"

"Do I look like I have a library card?"

"You look like you have a stain on your pants."

"I don't have a library card."

"But you _do_ have a stain on your pants. Get yourself cleaned up."

"How did I get roped into this?"

"What's the big deal? You go to the Beanery, you go to the movie theater, it won't kill you to go the library."

"I patronize the small businesses in order—"

"To be patronizing?"

"It's good for my image."

"And this'll be faboo for your image. Come on, I can't get a library card without you. I don't live here."

Silence. "Fine. Give me a few minutes."

*

"You are so shameless."

"What?"

"You were flirting with the desk girl."

"I wasn't flirting with the desk girl."

"Okay, then you were flirting with the desk."

"'Flirting with the desk'?"

"You have a thing with inanimate objects."

"A 'thing'?"

"You're doing that shtick where you just repeat what I say in a snide tone of voice."

"Well, I'm trying to figure out how to get this computer terminal in bed, so I'm a little distracted from your witty repartee. Seriously, what 'thing' are you talking about?"

"So you're saying you don't do it on purpose."

"Do what?"

"You're, like, the poster-boy for Tynant bottles and you don't think you have a thing?"

"What—this conversation has gone from strange to incomprehensible in under twenty seconds. Which may be a new record for you."

"Okay, whenever you're talking to somebody you're interested in, or you want to intimidate, or… actually, pretty much everyone you talk to, you do this weird thing, where you, like, fondle everything in the room."

"It's weird?"

"Weird for me. I'm sure Clark loves it."

"I'll have to remember that."

"That Clark loves it?"

"_That it's weird_. So…"

"What?"

"You think the desk was interested?"

"Shut up."

"You're a little harsh for someone who depends on me to check out a library book."

"Yeah, and that sucks, by the way."

"You don't live here, so you don't get a card. It's a cruel, cruel world."

"Tell me about it. Okay. Here we go."

"What's this report on, anyway?"

"Nicodemus. It was one of the first African-American colonies in Kansas. There's one book here that I want to get, I can't remember the name—Coming Home to Nicodemus, Seeing Nicodemus, something like that. It's about a guy who—"

"Comes home?"

"Yeah, pretty much. So, word search, 'Nicodemus,' and… voila. Going Home to Nicodemus, by Daniel Chu. Call number F689.N5 C48, 1994. Available. Let's go."

"Hold on. There's another one, The Nicodemus Diaries. You want to get that one, too?"

"Oh. Uh, sure. What's the call number?"

"PZ7.R2777 Op, 1903."

"PZ?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's not anywhere near the other book."

"Damn Dewy and his decimal system."

"Come on, let's go find it." Silence. "What are you smiling at?"

"I just rarely see you so studious."

"I'm the poster girl for studiousness and good study habits."

*

"Hello?"

"How goes the studiousness?"

"Mph. I hate school."

"That's reasonable. Everyone hates school. Especially when it's keeping them up until two in the morning."

"It's two in the morning? Augh! I want to die."

"Don't joke about that. There's probably someone out there willing to do the job."

"Well, I'll stay away from shady nightclubs and homicidal preppies, and I should be fine."

"Is Bruce still there?"

"Yeah, he's around, I think. Haven't seen him since I got back."

"You _think_? You're a terrible hostess."

"I'm the hostess with the mostest. But I've got this project, and it's due… uh. Today. Besides, he's probably practicing his rock-climbing skills on the outside of the building again."

"'Again'?"

"According to Alfred, that's what Master Bruce did all last night. He's either a mental case, or a superhero in training."

"Or both."

"Hey, that's a possibility. Anyway."

"So what have you found out?"

"About Nicodemus? Some stuff. They had a few gospel songs named after them."

"Interesting."

"Yep… huh."

"What?"

"Nothing. Well, I was just… I spent the whole afternoon reading the memoir by Daniel Chu, and now I'm… reading… the other book we got…"

"Lilly." Silence. "Lilly?"

"What? Oh. Yeah, it's kind of weird. I don't think this is about Nicodemus. The town, anyway. There's a lot of… um. Bloodshed."

"Well, pioneer town, a lot of times that happens—"

"No, no, they're talking about a different place, I think. Wait a minute, I'll read the introduction… here. 'The names and specific locations have been changed, to prevent a sensationalist pilgimmage to the sight of this very real event.' Whatever. I guess whatever happened, they decided Nicodemus would be a—what the hell?"

"Don't keep me in suspense, here."

"This is really freakish. It's all about… I think it's about a killer flower."

Silence. "A killer flower?"

"I don't know, they're talking about how people fell under the terrible influence of this flower and went all crazy-like, and then died. Okay, this isn't helpful."

"Not for your report, anyway. Send it back here, I'll check it back in for you."

"I'll bring it back next time I visit."

"I want an excuse to flirt with the drop box."

"Okay, I'll give it to Sarah tommorow. Today. Whatever. Hey, what does Nicodemus mean?"

"Why do you think I know?"

Silence.

"What?"

Silence.

Sigh. "Nicodemus is Greek, from the work _nike_, meaning victory, and _demos_, meaning the people. There was also a biblical Nicodemus, who helped entomb Jesus before his resurrection."

Silence.

"I still don't know what makes you think I would have known that."

"Because you're the biggest, brainiest dork in the history of big and brainy dorkdom, and you know everything."

"I do?"

"Yeah. You're UberDork, didn't you know that? The arch-villian to Bruce's alter ego BroodMan."

"The liscensing possibilities are staggering."

"Yeah. I'm pooped. I'm gonna go to bed, get up early and finish this stupid thing later."

"Goodnight, Lilly."

"'Night."

*

"How did the project go?"

"Pretty well. Okay. Not that great. Somebody else did a project on another pioneer town, and she had slides, so…"

"Beaten by superior technology."

"Yeah. Hate it when that happens."

"You want me to bribe the teacher?"

"You never did give me a real birthday present, so sure."

"Anything for my beloved sister."

"It's good to be a princess. Hold on." Silence, muffled sounds. "Hey, Bumps? I've gotta go."

"Family emergency?"

"Don't you wish. No, Bruce and I are going out."

"He's _still_ there?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Is there something going on between the two of you that I should know about?"

"Nope."

"Is there something going on between the two of you that I shouldn't know about?"

"See you later, Bumps."

"You're impossible."

"And you love me for it. See you soon."

"Don't forget to send the books back."

"I already sent them, you should get them in about an hour. Although I'm kind of sad that I'll miss your first encounter with the drop box."

"All these learning experiences, I'm not sure I can handle it."

"It's been a big couple of days for you, even without the torture and hanging upside down and whatnot. Bye."

"Bye."

*Note: All that stuff I said about the town Nicodemus is true; the Internet is a crazy, wonderful place. The book really does exist, and it's not half bad. Check it out of your local library. _This concludes your PSA for the week._


	17. Stray

Stray

"Hewwo?"

"Lilly?"

"Hi." Sneeze.

"Hi, yourself."

"I'be sig."

"You certainly are."

"I don' unnerstand! I was fine yedderday, and now, I'be a big ball of snod."

"Snot?"

"Yeah." Honk. "Wassub?"

"Um. Nothing. I wondered how you were."

"I'be dyig. You don' habe a sister, you habe a hollow shell of illness an… an… an sickocidy."

"I thought you said you were a big ball of snod."

"Shuddub. Whuddy you wan'?"

"Nothing much, just to say 'hi'."

Sneeze. "Hi."

"Dad just offered me…"

"Duh ding?"

"The thing?"

"Yeah. Dat you wanned. Duh Speshuw Advider Poddidion?"

"Emeritus. Yes. He did."

"Ad you musd be dumping ub ad dowd wid eddidmen'."

"I think I am. What?"

"Go away. I'be dyig. Caw be whed I'be nod dead."

"I'll talk to you this weekend. I have to go, anyway."

"Meedig wid duh beeble?"

"I think so."

"Biddy biddy biddy."

"…Yes."

"Dat's spelled B-U-ef-Y."

"Oh."

"You thod I was callig you an owd wady?"

"I didn't take it personally. You should probably get some rest. I'll talk to you later."

"Otay. 'Night."

"Goodnight." Silence. "Lilly?"

Silence.

"Lilly."

Silence.

"Lilly!"

Sneeze. "Whu?"

"Hang up the phone."

"Otay."

Sneeze.

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Hi. How are you?"

"Better. Drugs are good. At least my nose isn't clogged anymore, even though I'm sneezing like a banshee."

"I didn't know banshees sneezed."

"Well, wailing outside the house of one who was about to die, you're bound to get wicked bad chest colds." Sneeze. "So, you called last night? Made any decisions?"

"About the position Dad's offering?"

"Yeah. About that. Or about declaring your love for Clark."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"Really, I insist."

"Shut up. Did you make a decision?"

"I… I'm still thinking about it."

"Okay, well, think a little faster. Dad's getting all antsy in the pantsy. I think he wants to announce everything at the dinner, be all 'ooh, I've got a scion and you don't' to his rivals. We were at breakfast this morning, and he kept talking about some Macedonian king, and it was really weird on top of all this medication." Sneeze. "Lex? You still there?"

"Sorry. I'm still back on the phrase 'antsy in the pantsy.'"

"Oh, shut up."

"I'll keep thinking."

"Uh-oh. You're all broody today. What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Something's up."

Silence.

"Come on, enough with the significant pauses."

"Could you allow me to set my own narrative pace? Please?"

"Okay."

"I was talking to Clark last night."

Silence.

"That was remarkably restrained of you."

"I was biting my tongue so hard I think I need stitches." Sneeze. "Okay. So you were talking with Clark last night. Where?"

"At his place. The barn area he staked out, above all the… farming… things. I don't know. Tractors and combines and roto-rooters."

"So. You were talking with Clark, last night, in a barn. What time last night?"

"Shut up."

"I am trying to get a mental picture! God, so censorious."

"Around ten."

"Okay. Resuming the biting of the tongue now."

"Thank you. He wanted to know how I felt, being an only child."

"And you told him about me?"

"I told him about Julian."

"Oh. What did you say about me?"

"I didn't say anything about you."

"Hey!"

"Sorry."

"Sorry? You're telling me you're sorry after renouncing my existence?"

"Well—"

"You little buttmunch."

"Listen, we were talking about this kid—"

"What kid?"

"I'm getting to that. The Kents have been taking care of a kid for the past few days. Apparently Mrs. Kent nearly ran over him on the road, and they're taking care of him for… some reason."

"Okay."

"You sound pissed."

"Duh." Sneeze. "But don't mind me. Okay, So Clark got attatched to the almost-roadkill kid?"

"Who's leaving tomorrow."

"And Clark wigged."

"Succinctly put."

"So you didn't tell him about me, because he was talking about having a little brother, and you just decided not to deal with the whole annoying sister when you could expound on the tragically lost brother."

"I sound a lot better when you're not around."

"I'll bet. Well… huh."

"What?"

"Well, it's just that I never heard of you telling anybody about Julian before."

"I _haven't_ told anyone about Julian before."

"So you and Clark—"

"Shut up."

"No, no! Seriously. I wasn't going to say anything bad. I was just going to say, you know, it seems like he's a friend. Which you haven't had for… ever, and so maybe I should stop messing with you."

"You think?"

"So maybe the next step is to talk about me. Since it's obviously much harder for you to tell people about me than it is about Julian."

"Well, you're the pain that keeps on giving, so—"

"Shut up. Eventually he's gonna find out that you have a little sister hiding out in Metropolis, appearing only at glamorous coffee-shop openings."

"Hmph. Speaking of which, those radioactive cockroaches…"

"What?"

"That you said you were going to put in the Talon."

"Oh. Yeah?"

"You didn't, did you?"

"No. Why? Is it failing?"

"Well, it's not the most successful place I've ever seen."

"Two coffee shops in a farmer town called 'Smallville' is something we call a bad idea."

"Who's 'we'?"

"'We' is everyone who isn't you. Besides, what does Smallville need with _one_ coffee-shop?"

"Oh, but they needed a five-tiered parking lot?"

"You have anger management issues."

"I'm not coming to your family therapy sessions, and you can't make me."

"Hey, if you move here, I could! Wouldn't that be fabulous? We could hold hands, and sing songs, and talk about our empowerment issues."

"Dad has empowerment issues?"

"Not really. I think he's worked them all out by controlling everything in his domain."

"Mmm."

"Except you."

"Mmm."

"So what are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know. I'm coming for the dinner, I'll tell him then."

"Jesus. Can't you just—why does it always have to be a big brouhaha when you come into town? Why can't you just come by, have some coffee, talk about your day, and go away again without all the moody soundtrack music and meaningful gestures?"

"Because we're Luthors."

"Right. Forgot about that. Melodrama is in our blood. Gah." Sneeze. "Fine. I'll tell Dad to write two copies of his dinner speech, one where you're a scion, the other where you're an asshole."

"And maybe one with both."

"No, I'll write that one."

"I'm sure you will."

"In fact, I'm writing it right now."

"See you then."

"Mmph." Sneeze. "Bye."

"Bye."

"Knock knock."

"I never thought anyone actually said that."

"How're you doing?"

"I'm fine. Just a few bruises."

"And a concussion, Tobey said."

"He talks too much."

"'Hi, Lilly. It's great to see you, Lilly. Thank you so much for coming down here, Lilly. I hope you didn't miss a fun dinner, Lilly.' All of these things would be nice for you to say right about now."

"What, all at once? I'd have to say your name quite a bit, wouldn't I?"

"I just booked my ass down here to make sure you were okay, and this is the treatment I get?" Sneeze. "Scoot over."

"You're contagious!"

"And you're annoying!"

"Yeah, and I caught that from you, so God knows what else I might catch."

"Shut up and move over. This place is freezing."

"I have some sweats in the dresser. Besides, that thing doesn't look like it's very crinkle-proof."

"Yeah, no kidding. I left in a hurry. But it's pretty, so… which drawer?"

"Second from the bottom, I think."

"Okay. Hey, who bought you this?"

"What, the sweats?"

"No, the changing screen."

"I have no idea. Me?"

"It's kind of cool. Although I can't imagine how useful it could really be in this room."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm just saying, Big Bro's changin' clothes, probably whoever else is in here will want to watch."

"Lilly. That was disgusting."

"Thank you. I aim to please." Sneeze. "Do you have somewhere to hang this?"

"Sure, just anywhere in the closet."

"Wow. I've never been in here. I feel like I need a piece of string, or some cheese or pebbles or whatever Hansel used."

"Hansel and Gretel. Hey, they were like us."

"Yeah? In what way? How do you turn out the light switch in here?"

"Left. No, other left. Up. There. Older brother, younger sister, dopey father."

"No wicked stepmother, though."

"Not yet."

"You're awfully morose when you've got a concussion, have you noticed that?"

"As a matter of fact, I have."

"So what was your answer going to be?"

"What?"

"For Dad. Tonight."

"Oh. I… I was going to think about it on the drive, but then I got dumped out of my limo and had to think about a few other things."

"Yeah, pavement can really rearrange your priorities that way. They found the guy, by the way. Up by the bowling alley. He shot the owner, shot his wife, and… he's dead."

"There seems to be more to that story."

"Well, in typical Smallville fashion, he got a bowling ball through his stomach."

"What about the kid?"

"Kid?"

"Luka. Is he all right?"

"He's fine. Clark found him hiding out in the bowling alley."

"Congratulations."

"On what?"

"You just said Clark's name without referring to the fact that I should jump him."

"Consider it an unspoken sentiment. Anyway, he's staying at the Kents' place for tonight, and we finally found that aunt in Edge City, so she's coming in on the red-eye to pick him up tomorrow."

"And a happy ending is had by all. Except the abused millionaire."

"Such a sad lot is your life. You look okay, though."

"Better than I feel. Here, take—well, don't take _all_ the pillows."

"I'm taking two! God, it's two pillows and you get all huffy. Besides, I need one to hit you in case you start falling asleep."

"Right."

"Can't sleep with a concussion. I don't know why, but you can't."

"I don't know why, either."

Silence. "This reminds me of when you were freaking out in Metropolis."

"Me, too."

"I think about once a month you'd come home either injured or OD'ing or had alcohol poisoning or something, and I'd always come into your room and watch in case you stopped breathing."

"I never did."

"You never did. That's true. But I always made sure."

"So you came down here so I wouldn't die?"

"Pretty much. Yeah. You got a problem with that?"

"No. I _do_, however, have a problem with the fact that your feet are near my feet. You put ice cubes in your socks, or what? Get thee to the other side of the mattress."

"Uh-oh. 'Thee' and 'thou' coming into the vocabulary. Your Shakespeare only surfaces when you're really delirious."

"Thou speakest true words, mine sister."

Sneeze.

"God bless you. Have a tissue."

"Thanks. Between my cold medication and your concussion, we're like one normal person and one junkie."

"_Concussed_ junkie."

"The best kind of junkie, I think."

"Me, too."

"Hey! Wake up, come on, Lex. Stay awake."

"Make me."

"Okay."

"Mphlg! Ptui! That was—"

"A used tissue that you just mostly swallowed, yes."

"Out of the bed. You are banished to the armchair."

"Fine." Sneeze. "But I had to make sure you were awake."

"Yeah, awake and now dying of the Ebola virus, or whatever it is that you have."

"I think it's a little less virulent than Ebola."

"Whatever. It's now in my esophagus."

"Sorry. But now you're awake and free to berate me as much as you like."

"I need water. And about a gallon of Listerine."

"I'll have Enrique get some."

"Don't leave. I don't need it that bad."

"Okay. I'm right here, in the chair. Ooh, is this one of those Sharper Image chairs I saw? They're groovy. Hey, it's even got a massager thing! I'm never moving again."

"What if you have to pee?"

"Okay, I'll move to pee, but other than that. Never again. Wooga wooga wooga. This is the greatest thing since sliced bread."

"Better than Gabby?"

"Not such a fan of Gabby. I don't approve of the whole family masseuse thing."

"Really."

"Really. I go to one of those spa thingies. It's fun. You get free cucumber slices and mud."

"Good value for your money."

"Yup." Sneeze. "Hand me a tissue."

"You're going to put it in my ear, or something."

"I'm gonna put it up your butt if you don't give me a tissue right now."

"You're bossy tonight."

"You're concussed tonight. You probably won't even remember I was here tomorrow morning."

"So… this reminds you of before?"

"What? Oh, yeah. A little. I mean—I don't want you to get all guilt-stricken. It's been a long time since you pulled any stuff like that. But… this place is good for you. Except when you're getting attacked by mutant teenagers."

"Or pre-teenagers."

"He didn't actually attack you."

"He was just related to the man who did."

"You're so judgmental." 

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"Shut up. And no sleeping."


	18. Reaper

Reaper

"Mrphl."

"Well put."

"What time is it?"

"I dunno. Sunlight-in-the-eye time, I guess. How do you feel?"

"Fell asleep with a concussion."

"Yes, you did."

"And yet I am alive."

"Maybe you slipped into a coma."

"Even you would have noticed that. How was sleeping in the chair?"

"Yeah. Right. Because I don't have my own bedroom around here. I've been awake for, like, three hours."

"You have?"

"Okay, fifteen minutes. Whatever. I was just waiting for you to rejoin the land of the non-bitch-smacked before I left. So, see you."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah. I've got stuff to do."

"It's the weekend. What stuff could you possibly have to do?"

"You don't know, I could have some secret life that you're totally unaware of."

"_You_ have a secret life."

"That's not what I said. I said I could. If I wanted."

"Joining up with Captain X and his gang?"

"Professor X. _Professor_ X. You read one comic when you're a kid and you think you're Kevin Smith."

"Who?"

"For the love of pretzels. I'm leaving. I'll call you later."

"Bye."

"Bye. And don't get thrown out of any moving cars for the next few days."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get my leotard and laser gun to go fight my archnemiseses in Metropolis. Go back to sleep."

"Archnemisises?"

"Archnemeses. And shut up."

"G'night."

*

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey. Battle any Archnemeses today?"

"Besides my evil brother who's hell-bent on world domination?"

"But what I really want to do is direct."

"What?"

"Never mind. So what's up?"

"Nothing. I'm just—hey, why do we have a football team?"

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, the Sharks. Why'd Dad buy them? He hates football, he never goes. We never go. What's the point?"

"It's something that everyone can identify with, Lilly. Lionel Luthor, owner of LuthorCorp but more importantly, owner of the Metropolis Sharks. It's good PR."

"Expensive PR."

"What brought that on?"

"Nothing. I was just wondering why we had the team if we never went to see them."

"Speak for yourself. I've gone to a few games."

"Ooh. Taken Clark yet?"

"No, I—shut up."

"I'm just saying, young man like that, former varsity player, maybe he'd like to see the action."

"I'm hanging up on you."

"All the broad shoulders, tight pants—okay, okay, I'll stop. Anyway. When did you ever go?"

"A few times, with a few people."

"And the evasivity rears its head."

"I'm not being evasive, I just don't remember. We've had the team for a while."

"Good point. Hey, what ever happened to that twerp you had try out for the team?"

"Twerp?"

"Yeah, the one from Smallville. Wasn't he Lana Lang's main squeeze or something?"

"He still is. He's finishing up school."

"He didn't get on the team."

"Turned out not to be necessary."

"That must've broken his poor little heart."

"I'm crying on the inside. What sparked this conversation?"

"Nothing. I just, I invited someone to go, and he said no. So I just wondered what the use of having a football team was if we couldn't even get a damn date out of it."

"The eternal question."

"Seriously, you should take Clark. It'd thrill him to tiny little bits."

"I'm not dating Clark."

"I've got an idea! You take Clark, I'll take Bo Duke. It'll be great."

"I take it back. He doesn't look like Bo Duke."

"Yes he does."

"He looks like the other one."

"Eewww, the other one was gross."

"Yeah, well, that's what Clark's dad looks like."

"Then that's what Clark will grow up to look like."

"He's adopted."

"Oh. Well, maybe he'll grow up to look like him anyway."

"That's a fate I would wish on no man."

*

"You did a good thing, bringing them."

"You're about to say something terrible."

"I am not!"

"You have the face that you have whenever you're about to say something terrible."

"All I said was that it was a good thing, bringing them to the game. He's not a bad player."

"How do you know?"

"I'll revise that to say that he looks really good with the shoulder pads and the tight pants."

"It's a surprisingly forgiving outfit on some."

"So, we're done with the bonding and the family vibes and everything?"

"Just about."

"Okay. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Come on. It's a surprise."

"That sounds ominous."

*

"Huh."

"Try again."

"It's… quiet."

"Too quiet."

"It's beautiful, too."

"Yes it is. Come on, stuff's in the trunk."

"What stuff?"

"Well, all the gear is in the cabin already, so—"

"Gear? Is this—oh, my God. That's a boat."

"Yep."

"This is a fishing trip, isn't it?"

"Well, I figured—oof. Okay."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome. Lex?"

"Mmm?"

"I can't breathe."

"Oh, right."

"Not that I don't like the hugging. Just, you know, a little less, um, enthusiasm."

"What's in the trunk?"

"Traditional foodstuffs. And S'mores."

"S'mores?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what a S'more is."

"I won't tell you that."

"Do you ever… are you, like, an alien from another planet who hasn't mastered the art of cultural absorption?"

"That sounds painful."

"Seriously. You don't know what a S'more is."

"Seriously."

"Okay. I can't believe—you do know what a marshmallow is, right?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"I can even spell it."

"Have you ever eaten one?"

"In hot cocoa."

"I mean one that's been toasted."

"Toasted. No."

"You really need to get out more. I'm concerned. It might already be too late for you."

"Hey, you're my sister. How come you're so culturally astute?"

"Because I watch MTV and, you know, things other than C-SPAN. Come on."

"On where?"

"See the stack of logs, placed at right angles to form a rough cube-shaped structure? That will be our living quarters."

"We're going to sleep in there?"

"Yes."

"On what?"

"I get the bed, you get the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace."

"There's a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace?"

"Don't drop all that—Lex, we can take more than one trip."

"I want to see the inside."

"I… okay, we'll see the inside."

"Where's the key?"

"No key."

"No key?"

"No key. There's nothing around us for miles."

"Exactly. Just because this is the more traditional wilderness, doesn't mean there aren't wild animals."

"Well, unless they've mastered the knob door handle, I think we're good for now."

"Nice. Rustic. Um."

"Yes, we have a toilet."

"Thank God."

"Wuss."

"Hey, I'm all for roughing it, but there's a reason that plumbing is considered one of the benchmarks of civilization."

"You have to pee, don't you."

"Which way to the benchmark of civilization, please?"

"To your right."

"Okay."

"And out the door."

"What?"

"It's an outhouse."

"_What_?"

"It's got a real toilet in there, it's not disgusting, relax. It's just outside."

"Oh my—does it at least have toilet paper?"

"Yes it does, Princess McPrissy."

"Any reading material?"

"Well, there might be last week's Entertainment Weekly in there or something, I dunno. We're borrowing this place."

"From whom?"

"Go pee."

"Who are we borrowing this place from?"

"Whom."

"I'm going to pee now."

"You do that. I'll unpack."

*

"That _People_ magazine was more than a week old."

"Sorry to hear that."

"I'm shocked that Julia Roberts and Benjamin Bratt broke up."

"Yes, in the past year, _that_ has been the media event to rock the nation."

"I'm just saying, it looked like the perfect relationship."

"No relationship is perfect."

"So whose place is this?"

"Bruce Wayne's."

"Oh, really."

"Yes, really. And shut up, we're just friends."

"Okay."

"Shut up!"

"I said okay! I'm not saying anything other than okay! So calm down."

"He's just a friend! No hostile takeovers or anything!"

"Glad to hear it."

"Okay. Anyway. I brought most of the stuff in, but there's still some in the back seats."

"All that was in the trunk of the car?"

"Yep."

"Impressive."

"Well, you fit a body in there, so…"

*

"What's that noise?"

"Jesus. Calm down."

"Once you tell me what that noise was."

"The Blair Witch."

"Okay. See? That wasn't so hard."

"Do you get that cultural reference?"

"There was a cultural reference?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Your marshmallow's on fire."

"I like them burnt."

"You like them on fire."

"Yes."

"Pyro."

"So what do we do now? Sing songs? Tell ghost stories?"

"Sure."

"Sure to which option?"

"We could… sing scary songs. About ghosts."

"I don't know any scary songs about ghosts."

"Me neither. We could talk about Dad."

"That's a little too scary, even for me."

"He said he was proud of you?"

"Along those lines."

"For stuffing Dom into the back of your car? Most dads are proud when their son hits his first home run in Little League or something."

"This is a special family."

"Where every family reunion is an opportunity to scheme."

"That's not a good motto."

"Mmph. Well, God punished you there."

"I can still get it—_ow_!"

"Hee hee hee! Hee!"

"Shut up and get me… the ointment."

"Hee!"

"Shut up."

"Hee. And that ointment was for the mosquitoes, not for burns."

"Well, it worked this afternoon."

"Here, just put one of the compresses on it."

"Thanks. Ow."

"Here."

"You don't burn yours."

"And you drop yours into the fire, so you'll have to consider which is the lesser evil. Take it."

"Where are the graham crackers?"

"I think we used them all up."

"I'm full, anyway."

"Yeah. Good fish."

"Are we doing this tomorrow, too?"

"If you want. I've got the place for the weekend."

"Huh. So."

"Uh-oh."

"Bruce Wayne let you borrow this place."

"Shut up."

"I'd just like to know what his intentions are."

"To be crazy and, you know. Insane."

"Yes. I meant in terms of you."

"I was talking about in terms of me. And shut up."

"He spent a period of time with you in Metropolis—"

"Shut up."

"And he's loaned you the use of his cabin—"

"Shut up."

"I'd just like to know if this is going anywhere."

"And I'd just like to know when you're going to shut up."

"You're not being very mature about this, Lilly."

"You're not shutting up about this, Lex."

"I won't tell anyone."

"Good, because I'm not telling you, so we'll be sure not to tell anybody about anything."

"I'll tell you about Clark."

Silence. "You're just saying that to get me to spill the beans."

"I might have had a slightly different relationship than I have, up until now, represented to you."

"Nuh-uh."

"As clever as that retort is, I think I may have piqued your interest. So come on. What's going on."

Silence. "Nope. No. You're lying, and I'm not telling."

"You're hurting my feelings."

"Yeah, well, I'm practicing."

*

"Hey. Hey." Pause. "Lilly, wake up."

"Mpifpl."

"Good morning."

"Ooh. My tummy hurts."

"Yeah. Mine, too. You want some coffee?"

"Sure. Ugh. This is not a comfy bed."

"Bearskin rug's pretty comfortable, if you want to switch tonight."

"Nice try, but the ghost of the angry bear might come in the night and eat me."

"Well. There's that consideration, for sure."

"Always put safety first. Besides, we have to leave this afternoon. You've got work and I've got school."

"True. Here."

"Oh, I love you! Coffee! Warm and nice and, wow, you put way too much sugar in. Ew."

"How am I supposed to remember how you like it?"

"Question. How many teaspoons did you dump in here?"

"Well, there was only that tablespoon, so—"

"Okay. Let me get up and I'll figure out something for breakfast."

"I already made breakfast."

Silence.

"Okay, I made toast."

"Burnt toast."

"Yes. But toast."

"You need to learn the virtues of a balanced meal. Come on."


	19. Drone

**Drone**

"Hello?"

"You suck as a businessman."

"What?"

"Seriously.  This place is dead."

"What?"

"What happened to all the bru-ha-ha and all the excitement and all the 'I'm going to be the next Starbucks king' of a month ago?  This is just sad."

"What?"

"This is your sister."

"Yes.  I gathered that part.  Where are—oh.  When did you get into town?"

"A few minutes ago.  I was going to surprise you when you came in to get your coffee, but then I got depressed."

"And you had to tell me about it right away."

"Well, half the fun of depression is sharing it with other people."

"And writing poetry."

"Right—shut up!  It was _one_ poem, it was for a class _project_, and I can't believe you haven't forgotten about that.  And you suck."

"It was a Spenserian stanza, and some things are hard to forget.  And what's with all the sucking?  Your vocabulary used to be more comprehensive, especially when it came to insulting me."

"I ran out of my Dis of the Day toilet paper."

Silence.  "Was that sarcasm?"

"Shut up."

"Well, it's often hard to tell with you."

"You _suck.  Are you coming in for your coffee or what?"_

"Yes."

"When?."

"I'm on the road as we speak.  I just have to go home and change."

"Did Homer Simpson spill something on you again?"

"His name is Gabe Sullivan, and he's more competent than you give him credit for."

"How many times has he dumped stuff all over you?"

"… about three times."

"Really?"

"…not including today."

"So I think he's exactly as competent as I give him credit for.  Anyway, hurry up."

"You have some new insults you want to try to my face?"

"Well, yeah, that too.  But I need some advice, so move your ass."

"You want _my advice?"_

"Yes.  The planets are in that alignment again."

"Oh, God."

"Come on, it'll be fun! You can act all patronizing and superior, which is like what you normally do, only this time I'll actually listen to what you're saying and won't make fun of you."

Silence.

"Much."

"Is this really a planetary alignment kind of occasion, or are we going to have The Talk?  That's really more Dad's responsibility than mine."

"Okay, first of all, I can't even imagine getting The Talk from Dad; I'd wind up like some latter-day Luzcrezia Borgia.  And second, if I wanted to ask Dad about it, I'd take a few aspirin and lie down until the feeling went away, so could you please just shut up and help out a relative, here?"

"So what happened?"

"_Nothing, I just need a little advice.  And since you're my big brother, and you're a guy, I figured you'd be helpful in this one, extremely isolated occasion."_

"'You're my brother, and you're a guy.'  This isn't going to be one of those conversations where I end up hiring a guy named Vito to break someone's kneecaps, is it?"

"No."

"Because this isn't a secured line."

"No Tonya Harding, I promise.  Just get over here so we can talk."

"I can't wait.  See you in about a half-hour."

"I'll either be here or at that bookstore a few doors down."

*

Ring.  Ring. "Hi.  If you have this number, you know what to do."

Beep.  "Hans, I need you out on Route 90, two miles east of the mansion.  A red Mustang with engine trouble."

*

"Hey there."

"Hans?"

"Oh.  Sorry about that.  Punched the wrong speed dial."

"Hans?"

"It doesn't matter anyway; false alarm.  Some reporter named Karen Castle trying to get an interview."

"Hans?"

"Uh-oh."

"You thought I was Hans."

"I said I was sorry."

"I am not Hans."

"True."

"Nor do I resemble, in any way, a 300-pound Swede with a handlebar mustache."

"Well, I keep telling you to do something about that harelip, but—"

"Shut up!"

"Heh."

"Asshole."

"Your ego's fine."

"Yeah, but my harelip might never recover.  Didn't you listen to the message?  Since when does Hans sound like an 18-year-old Metropolitan?"

"I was distracted.  Why didn't you answer, anyway?"

"I was in a bookstore.  You can't have a cell phone on in a bookstore."

"You were at the DogEared Bookstore."

"Your point?"

"It's not exactly Barnes and Noble."

"In God's eyes, all bookstores are equally sacred."

"As godlike as we Luthors may appear, we're not gods."

"So, in _your eyes, it's either the Strand or nothing?"_

"I'm a little nervous about the Strand, to be honest.  But yes."

"Hmph.  So what was with the Mustang?"

"I told you.  Some woman trying to get an interview."

"By making her engine fall out?"

"I didn't say it fell out, I said there was engine trouble."

"Yeah, but remember the last time you were talking about engine trouble?"

"No—oh, God."

"'Oh, Lilly?  I think we might have a little bit of engine trouble.'  'Really, Lex, whatever could you mean?' 'Well, Lilly, it appears that our engine fell off the back of the boat, Lilly.'  'Oh, shit, Lex.'  Sound familiar?"

"That wasn't my fault."

"You were the one in the back of the boat.  Bruce says it's not possible for a boat engine to do that, by the way.  Plus we owe him five thousand dollars."

"That was a five thousand dollar boat?"

"No, that was a two thousand dollar boat; it was a three thousand dollar fishing kit that went down with the boat."

"Oh."

"It's amazing that we survived that."

"The hip waders didn't help."

"Hip waders, as I think their name implies, only help to keep out water if the wearer is in water that comes up to the hips.  Beyond that, I think it's every man for himself."

"If I have to look like something off the Fishing Network, I expect a little more in the way of buoyancy."

"You should buy the company and make them put little floaties at the top, so you can float if the water does go past the hips."

"Laugh now, but L.L. Bean will sell out of them in a week."

"Did the water marks ever come out of the seats?"

"Hans is still working on it."

"Yeah.  Try to remember which speed dial is his.  Why is Hans on your speed dial, anyway?"

"I tend to have a somewhat higher turnover rate of vehicles than the average consumer."

"That's a snotty way of saying you're accident-prone."

"Hey, I'm a snotty guy."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor, what can I get for you?"

"Hi, Sarah.  Two cappuccinos with whipped cream, please."

"Coming right up."

Silence.

"'Mr. Luthor'?"

"Don't start."

"They call you 'Mr. Luthor' here?"

"What do you think they call me at the factory?"

"Well, to your face—"

"Don't start."

"Fine.  Okay.  You're no fun when you're pouty, by the way."

"I'm not pouty, I'm just disgruntled."

"By the reporter woman—Karen Carpenter?"

"Castle."

"Whatever.  Why did you stop, anyway?"

"I believe that every citizen in this country has a duty to help his or her fellow patriot in times of need."

"Mmm-hmm.  How long were her legs?"

"All the way up and all the way down."

"Hee.  And ew."

"Hey, do you want to do a little investigating?"

"No."

"It'll be fun."

"Fun like last time?"

"Fun like every time.  She works for the Metropolis Journal, she claims she's writing a puff piece on me…"  Pause.  "Why aren't you writing this down?"

"I'm not skulking around town for you again."

"You like to skulk."

"I do not like to skulk, I… just happen to have a flair for it.  Anyway, I can't.  I've got other stuff."

"Other stuff?  Like what?"

"Like stuff.  I have my own little subplots too, you know.  They might not be an integral part of the Lex Luthor Comedy Hour, but they're key to my character development."

"You're not _really a superhero, are you?"_

"Bite me."

"It's not nice to leave me in the dark about it.  The least you could do is tell your own brother about your superpowers."

"Yes, know me and tremble, for I am SarcastaGirl, wielder of wry witticisms and iron irony, defender of… I ran out of cleverness."

"Quite some time ago, I'd say."

"Defender of dry drollness?  I don't know.  Anyway, yes, I'm actually a superhero.  I've got spandex and everything."

Silence.

"Sorry.  Too much information?"

"Much too much.  My sister in spandex is not something I want to contemplate."

"Hey, I'm a gymnast, we're all about the spandex.  Why do you want to research this woman anyway?"

"So you'll do it."

"I didn't say that."

"Because anyone writing a 'puff piece' on a Luthor has something up her sleeve."

"You know when you use those air quotes, you look really stupid, right?  Maybe she's just a homicidal maniac trying to torture and kill you."

"These days, that would at least have the comfort of familiarity."

"Okay.  I'll check my sources.  But I'm not promising anything."

"Thanks.  So.  What do you want to do this weekend?"

"Well, if I'm going to pump my informants for anything on this reporter woman, I don't think I can stay."

"Just make sure you wash your hands afterward."

"Shut up.  And tell Lana that her service needs to be a leeeeetle faster than this, since I'm now going on the road with no caffeine."

"I'll be sure to do that."

"I'll call when I get anything on Catherine Keener."

"Karen Castle."

"Whatever."

"Hey, what did you want my advice on?"

"Oh.  Nothing, it's all good."

"It is?"

"Yeah.  I bought Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars from the bookstore, so I'm set."

"God help us all."

*

"Hello?"

"So?"

"So what?"

"What have you found?"

"Found about what?"

"What game are we playing here, the one where every sentence is a question, or the one where we use the last word the other person used first?"

"First of all, what makes you think I've got time for word games, and second of all, don't you realize I can whip your ass at either one?"

"One win, and suddenly you're Rosencrantz?"

"Rosencrantz?"

"Foul, you can't just repeat what the other person said."

"Fine.  You win, I lose."

"Have you found out anything about Castle yet?"

"Not yet."

"Lilly, I asked you for this stuff yesterday."

"Remind me to kill myself if I ever have to actually work for you, instead of doing you favors like the one I'm doing for you right now."

"Call me as soon as you have something."

"I told you I'd do that, so if you don't mind, I'm going to go now and do my thing."

"The thing where you pump informants, or the thing with the spandex, or the thing with the grade-point average?  Hello?"

*

**To: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
From: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
Subject: [None]  
**Is this address safe?

**To: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
From: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
Subject: RE: [None]  
**Relatively.  Did you find something?  
-L

**To: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
From: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
Subject: Re: RE [None]  
Attachment: Legs.doc  
**There's not much to find.  I've got the major stuff—birth date and place, college, etc.—attached, but don't expect much in the way of dirt.  Basically, she's committed the cardinal sin of being a woman and ambitious, which means that she's a bitch from hell who probably slept her way to where she is now.  I don't think she's too nice, myself, but most of the opinions I've got on her are from people who've got footprints or egg on their faces because of her.  She's kind of like what Dad must've been like when he was in his twenties.  So, evil, but not evil in a way you're going to be able to use.  
--Lilly  
*~A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.  –Jane Austen~*

**To: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
From: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
Subject: RE: Re: RE: [None]  
**Thanks.  Can you find out if her editor really wants to have a piece on me, or if it's just her?  
-L

**To: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
From: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
Subject: Ew.  
**"her editor really wants to have a piece on me," is a direct cut-n-paste quote.  You're gross.  
As far as I can tell, the Journal doesn't know what she's doing half the time.  She's just on her own with whatever projects she does.  Which doesn't sound like your typical journalist, so either she's not very good—which her work seems to refute—or the paper trusts her an awful lot.   Or she's got a very powerful backer.  
--Lilly  
*~A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.  –Jane Austen~*

**To: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
From: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
Subject: Dumbass  
Attachment: LxL 3-24-03.pdf  
**What the hell were you thinking?  Read it and weep.

**To: sarcastagirl@aol.com  
From: nolimetangere@hotmail.com  
Subject: RE: Dumbass  
**Where did you get this?  
-L

*

"Hello?"

"Where do you think I got it?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't ask."

"The nimrod isn't even smart enough to keep her computer offline when she's writing—I ripped it off her drive."

"Okay.  Well."

"It's not a puff piece."

"You sound surprised."

"Not with _her.  With _you_.  I didn't expect you to actually sit down and talk with her."_

"I didn't.  Exactly."

"What, she slept with you and you thought, gee, I really love that journalistic integrity she's got on under her skirt?"

"I did nothing of the kind, and—she distorted everything I said!"

"Duh, or course she did, she's a reporter for a crap newspaper who's going to smack you upside the head with your own moronicness!  What did you expect?"

"I don't know.  I thought it was a bluff."

Pause.  "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I thought she wrote this draft, and she was going to show it to me and then I'd pay her off, or something.  But—"

"Did you actually try to talk to her about this?"

"Of course I did.  One thing I've learned from Dad, is that you can always negotiate your position."

"And how well did you negotiate this time?"

"I think she's going to rewrite it to include that part where I illegally obtained a first draft of her story and tried to bribe her into not publishing it."

"So you negotiated yourself into a worse position than the one you were in before."

"Correct."

"You are the dumbest man alive."

"That's hard to argue right now."

*

"Hello?  Anybody home?  Hellooooo?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Wow, nice to see you too, Bumps."

"I just meant I didn't think I'd see you so soon."  Pause.  "Or see so much of your luggage."

"Yeah, well, I'm moving in for a while."

"I think your teachers might have something to say about that."

"I'll commute.  I just can't stay in Metropolis for a little while."

"Why not?"

"Well—okay, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news."

"What's the bad news?"

"Dad found out and threw me out of the house."

Pause.  "Is the good news going to make the bad news understandable?"

"Probably.  Help me upstairs with the luggage."

"Enrique!"

"Wuss."

"Yes, sir?"

"Please take Miss Luthor's things up to her room."

"Yes, sir."

"Come on into the kitchen, I'll make you some toast."

"One of these days you're going to have to learn how to make something else."

"One of these days will never, ever come, Lilly.  Besides, you like my toast.  What's the good news?"

"The good news is that I found out that Dad's behind all the stuff with Karen Castle.  It's a test to see what you'll do under pressure."

"How did you find out?"

"Where's my toast?"

"Lilly, remember that I inherit all your shares should you die in an untimely manner."

"Ditto, Bumps."

"Fair point.  Would you like sourdough or honey wheat?"

"Honey wheat, please.  Okay, Dad's been acting really chipper this past week, doing his gloating thing where he's all about how superior he is to everybody else, and—"

"Are you two still in therapy?"

"God, no."

"Good.  I'd hate to think this is what you were like after all the headshrinking."

"Anyway?"

"Go on."

"Thank you.  So, I looked at his phone records, and there was a call he put through about a month ago to a bar in the Suicide Slums that employs Castle's sister's ex-husband, and she's—"

"How the hell did you find that out?"

"Lex, you're going to have to get used to the fact that of the two of us, I am by far better at getting information.  You seem all smooth and omniscient, but really, you could have a psycho working for you and not know about it—oh, wait, you have had psychos working for you and not known about it!  So my point is, basically, that you shouldn't be surprised when we have conversations like this."

"Just so long as I can seem smooth and omniscient when I want to."

"Permission granted.  The sister's the go-between, because before Dad called that bar, she hadn't talked to either her sister or her ex in, like, months.  And then they start talking three or four times a week, always in certain patterns.  After that first call, Dad went on an untraceable line.  The bar would get a call, then the brother would call his ex, then she would call Castle.  Or the reverse—Castle would call her sister, who would call her ex, who would disappear for a few hours.  My guys couldn't follow him, and he's got a history, so I'd guess that he's either really good at losing tails or Dad warned him someone would try to follow him."

"How do we know it's Dad?"

"The untraceable call. I set up most of Dad's scramblers—or I know the guys who did—and the way the signals are bounced is classic Dad.  Plus, it's the kind of thing he'd do just for the fun of it.  On rainy days when he can't go play golf?  He thinks up ways to drive you crazy."

"I think he does that even on sunny days."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure."

"You could pull the old Richard Nixon on her."

"I've already got a Richard Nixon."

"True, but his legs aren't nearly as nice."

"No, they're not."

"This is a stumper."

"Here's your toast."

"Thanks."

_***Note: Yeah, well, I never said I'd be timely with these things.  If you don't remember this episode, I don't blame you, but dig up your recording of it anyway to explain any of the bits you don't get in the story.  It always bugs me that they never explain Lex's all-knowing-ness, and Lilly's a great device to make it make sense._

_Mostly, though, I just want to pimp the awesome and incredible talents of annie lee, who made this wonderful page for Lex and Lilly, and who did it, like, nine months ago, and has been waiting for an update ever since.  You intimidated me with your coolness, I swear, and I couldn't write knowing that I had someone actually quoting me.  It was scary-pressure.  But in a good way.  I can't make the dag-nabbited html code work, but if you drop me a line, I'll send you the website address.  Anybody who's more html-savvy than I am (ie more than a sheep is), feel free to help me out here.  Thanks!_


	20. Crush

**Crush**

"…and maybe it's not out of the realm of possibility that she's telling the truth. I mean, she's the only nanny we ever had who didn't sleep with Dad. That's got to say something for her moral values, doesn't it?"

"You really believe her version of the story?"

"You really believe _Dad's_?"  Silence.  "Look, I don't know.  All I know is, you got to see Mom those last few months and I didn't, and I managed to get over hating _you_ for that, so you should try to forgive Pamela for scramming."

"Why?"

"Because it's what people do when this much time goes by.  She told you she didn't want to go, she told you why Dad made her, and from what you said she at least sounded pretty convincing. I mean, I know it's one thing to be angry, but it's another thing to be angry for ten years."

"How do you know why Dad made her leave? I didn't tell you about that yet."

"I…"

"How long have you been talking to her?"

Silence.

"_How long_?"

"Since she left, Lex.  What was I supposed to do, just cut her out of my life like you did?  She cared about you, she cared about _us_, which was more than Dad did!  I—"

Silence.

"Lex?"

Silence.

"Lex, are you there?"

Silence.

*

"Um, hi."

"Hello.  Clark Kent of the ill-fitting suit, right?"

"Yeah.  Lilly of the mysterious connections to Smallville."

"How are you doing?  Sit down."

"Oh, uh.  Thanks.  I'm doing pretty good.  How are you?"

"Pretty good."

"That's, um.  Good.  So, what are you reading?"

"I'm embarrassed to admit it, but—"

"_Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus_."

"Your disbelieving expression says it all."

"Does that actually work?"

"I haven't had a chance to find out yet.  Why, you looking for a cure-all for the lonely of heart?"

"I don't know about that, but I'm, uh, I have a little problem with girls."

"That's easy to believe."

"What do you mean?"

"Relax.  I haven't heard any rumors or anything.  It's just, your manners and… appearance… lead me to believe that there might sometimes be difficulties."

"Oh.  Did I—I mean, do I seem kind of clumsy around girls or something?"

"You're a little uncertain, I think.  But I'm guessing you're uncertain around guys, too."

"I'm pretty much uncertain around everybody."

"My brother's the same way.  But he covers that by looking like he's confident and he knows what he's doing.  Maybe you should try that."

"Pretend I know what I'm doing?"

"Hmm.  Maybe not.  You don't lie easily, I'll bet."

"Uh…"

"Don't answer that.  Well, I've read up to chapter 13, so maybe I can help.  Tell me your problem."

"Oh—no, it's not that interesting."

"You'd be surprised what I find interesting. Come on, it's your chance to unburden yourself to a total stranger. That's practically what coffee houses are for."

"It's just—you know how you think, when you don't have anybody who's, like, interested in you? You think, well, maybe I'm just not that cool, or whatever. And then you suddenly have, like, more than one person interested in you, but you're still thinking, maybe I'm not that interesting, and what if they find out? Then I'll be alone again."

"So you have more than one person interested in you?"

"Yeah. Right now."

"For the moment."

"Yeah."

"You think if just one of these people were interested in you, then you would think you were good enough?"

"I… I don't know. I guess it would depend on which one of them it was. I mean, it's not like I don't like them both, a lot, they're both really great, it's just that now it feels like I've gotta choose, and there's all this pressure to make the right choice or whatever, and I don't know what it is. And I'm tired of everybody treating me like I'm a moron because I don't know how to choose."

"So basically, there are these two great people you know, and they both like you as friends, but they also both like you as more than friends, and you're… irritated by it?"

"No, it's not that—"

"I hope not.  Come on, Clark, most guys your age should be so lucky as to get to choose."

"Well—"

"Here.  I think you need this more than I do."

"I don't know if it'll help."

"It can't hurt. Besides, I don't think they have anything in there for my particular problems."

"Why not?"

"Because the three most important men in my life are all egomaniacal geniuses bent on world domination."

"Oh. Do you, um, want to talk about it?"

Pause. "Judging by the haunted, terrified expression in your eyes, I doubt very much if you'd want to listen. No, it's okay, Clark. I'm just teasing you. I… there's not really anything to talk about. For me. I don't even really know why I'm here. One of the… geniuses comes here often, and I guess I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to him face to face. But I don't think he's coming."

"He comes here? Maybe I know him."

"I'll bet you do. Anyway, read the book and see if it helps. I'm gonna skedaddle. Oh—you never told me who these people were? Friends, classmates?"

"Oh. Two girls in my grade. I've been friends with them for a while—well, one of them I've been friends with for a while, the other girl I've known for a long time and we're just getting to be friends. So it's a little weird."

"And that's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Clark, but I have the sneaking suspicion that there's at least one other person interested in you. Catch you later."

*

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Jesus fucking—what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Pause. "It's my house, too."

"You never come here! I thought you were in Smallville, I drove all the way down there today! Jesus, my heart's in my mouth."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine. I just didn't expect you here. Um, why didn't I tell you what?"

"She's got cancer."

"Oh. That. Yes, she does."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't really let me finish a sentence."

"She's going to die.  It's the same kind that killed Mom, you know that?"

"Yes."

"I wanted to hate her for longer than this.  I wanted to hate her until she died."

"And that's not going to be long enough, is it."

"I think it's going to be too long."

"So go see her.  She's at Metro U tonight, getting poked and prodded. I was going to go over, but you should probably go instead."

"We could go together, if you want."

"You've got more catching up to do."

*

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey.  Did you go?"

"I'm still here.  She's sleeping for a while."

"Oh."

"You don't have to whisper, I'm out in the lobby."

"So did you talk?"

"Yeah.  I—"

"You're welcome."

"Well, I wasn't going to say thank you."

"What were you going to say?"

"We talked about you for a little while."

"Uh-huh."

"Did you really hate me?"

"Right after Mom died, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I hated you.  You got to be there, you were… I mean, I had to stay with _Grandma_, you know how much that sucked?"

"I'm beginning to have an idea."

"Dad didn't even want me to visit.  I barely got a chance to say goodbye, and you were there every day, you got to—yeah.  I hated you a lot, for a while."

"What happened?"

"What happened what?"

"You don't hate me now.  I don't think.  Why'd you change your mind?"

"Because of Pamela.  She kept telling me all these stories about Mom and you, and how much you guys missed me, and how mean Dad was for making me stay out there all the way, and she would let Mom talk to me on the phone every night and—and I got over it."

"Oh."

"Mostly because I am in all ways a superior human being to you."

"Well, of course."

"But Pam helped. And maybe you should just kind of… when you're mad, and people try to stop making you mad, you never really stop and think about why they're doing it. It's not because they want you to stop being mad at _them, or at least sometimes it isn't, it's because they don't want you to hurt any more. And if there's somebody who cares enough about you to try to—I don't know what I'm trying to say."_

"I do. I think. You're not very good with these kinds of speeches, are you?"

"Not incredibly, no."

"Well. Okay, thanks."

"You're welcome, Bumpy."

"Stop calling me that."

"That's never gonna happen."

"I know where you live."

"Whatever."

"I'll call you later."

"Okay. Love you."

"Me, too."


	21. Obscura

**Obscura**

"Wear the blue one."

"Lilly, I've been able to dress myself since I was two and a half."

"Wear the blue one."

"Why am I even going?"

"It'll be good for you."

"But I don't _want_ to go."

"It'll be good for you."

"They hate me."

"It'll be good for you."

Pause. "It occurs to me I don't really need you around at all, I can just hire an extremely attractive assistant to walk around with a recording of your voice."

"Shut up."

"See what I mean?"

"No assistant could ever be as attractive as me."

"This is going to be brutal."

"Just go. It'll be fine. And don't wear that, you look—"

"Sinister?"

"Like a reject from the Metropolis Morticians Gay Pride Parade, I was going to say."

"Shut up."

"Now who needs an assistant with a tape recorder? You're just giving them a check."

"I feel like I should be giving them more than this."

"The lawyers said this was the fair amount, including what they've lost for this season and what it's going to take to rebuild the herd. It's not exactly generous, but you give them any more and Bo Duke is going to flip out and not take any money, period."

"Could you stop calling him that? Every time you do, I start thinking of the real Bo Duke driving around in that car."

"Mmm, me too."

"That's disgusting."

"My love knows no reason, Lex."

"I think that's your hormones."

"Don't forget to take the check."

"Have I mentioned that I don't want to go? Because I still don't."

"It'll be good for you. Say hi to Clark."

"Say hi yourself."

"Um, no. I'll stay here and have Enrique peel some grapes and polish some silverware."

"If I'm doing this, then you have to come with me."

"No way! I don't want to get my shoes dirty."

"You're wearing sneakers."

"Expensive sneakers."

"Old sneakers. They look like somebody threw up on them."

"Yeah, but that somebody was the hot guitarist from No Doubt, so it's got sentimental value."

"Those shoes have vomit on them?"

"_Celebrity_ vomit."

"You've been in my car in those shoes."

"Yes."

"You've been walking all over my house in those shoes."

"Yes."

"And you're worried about stepping in cow crap?"

"Yes. Go, or you'll lose your nerve."

"Don't put your feet.. anywhere..  while I'm gone."

---

"Can I help you?"

"You must be Lilly. I've heard so much about you."

"Not as much as I've heard about you. Roger Nixon, isn't it? And it's Miss Luthor, if you don't mind. I'd ask you to sit down, but I don't really want you to stay. My brother's not here."

"What makes you think I've come to see your brother?"

"Because I don't have anything to say to you."

"Are you sure about that?"

"What do you want?"

"Just a chance to talk to Lex."

"Mr. Luthor. Show a little respect for your employer, Roge. As I said, he isn't at home, so run along—"

"Miss Luthor, I thought maybe you'd be a little mores sensible than your brother."

"No, I think you'll find vindictiveness and caprice run in the family. He should be in sometime this afternoon."

"I'll wait."

"I hear the driveway has some lovely gardenias, if you'd care to wait there. Good day, Roger."

---

"Hello?"

"Hey, not for nothing, but I just left Roger Nixon standing on your front stoop. He wants to talk to you."

"I'll bet he does."

"He's a lot uglier than I thought he would be."

"Reporting is hard on the complexion."

"You should force Clark to quit _The Torch_ immediately."

"Speaking of Clark. I couldn't help but notice that he has a copy of _Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus_."

"Does he indeed?"

"He does, indeed. And seems to be reading it with a great deal of diligence."

"My, that's industrious of him. I hope he's got a dictionary for the long words."

"Lilly."

"Hey, I'm the first to admit he's an eleven on the cute-o-meter, but he doesn't seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"I wonder where he could have gotten his hands on such sophisticated reading material."

"It's a puzzle."

"And I couldn't help but notice the price sticker said 'DogEared Bookstore' on it."

"Really? Amazing that a ratty old store like that would have not one but _two_ copies."

"So amazing it's almost unbelievable."

Pause. "Am I supposed to 'fess up now?"

"It'd be a good move."

"I met him in the Talon, and we got to talking. He's very.. "

"What?"

"Quaint. Seriously, I don't get what you're all het up about. We just talked."

"About his woman troubles?"

"We discussed his love life, I'll put it that way. And no, your name didn't come up."

"Why don't you tell him you're my sister?"

"Why don't _you_ tell him?"

"I asked you first."

"I like being mysterious."

"So if Roger Nixon is standing on my front stoop, how am I supposed to get in the house?"

"Come around back, I'll have Enrique keep an eye on him."

"Why was he let in at all? They know not to admit him anymore."

"I wanted to meet him."

"And now?"

"I want him on the front stoop. He makes me nervous."

"Really."

"Really. He's got..  I don't like the way he looks, like he's hungry all the time."

"That's a reporter look for you."

"Clark doesn't look like that."

"Clark's not much of a reporter."

"No argument. Speaking of which—"

"I'm not ready to talk about it."

"The Kents took it that badly?"

"Just the opposite. Mr. Kent actually shook my hand."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Like touching the Shroud of Turin."

"Yeah."

"It's not gonna last, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's going to wait until you do something that he disapproves of, for whatever reason, like kissing his son in a public place or something, and he'll use that as an excuse to give back the money."

"You're awfully pessimistic."

"Hey, at least my scenario gives you a chance at kissing Clark, which is a good thing, right?"

"Shut up."

"I've gotta go back to Metropolis for..  some stuff. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon sometime, okay?"

"I won't miss you."

"Liar."

"Take your vomit shoes with you."

---

"Lilly? Are you here?"

"In here!"

"Where?"

"Here!"

"That's not helpful!"

"Follow the smell of burnt popcorn!"

"What—oh. What are you watching?"

"'The Lord of the Rings.' I got it off the internet this morning."

"The quality's kind of..  crappy. And I don't remember this movie having a laugh track."

"Yeah, that's because somebody snuck a camcorder into the theater and recorded it."

"Wouldn't it be easier to bribe someone at the theater to give you a reel? Isn't it out on DVD yet?"

"No, it's not. And bribing people is your hobby, not mine. What the hell were you doing tooling around town with Roger Nixon all day? And be careful, the popcorn's not up to your usual standards."

"How did you know?"

"Because your microwave is retarded."

"I meant about the other thing."

"Lex, please. You're about as stealthy as a rhinoceros. What were you guys doing?"

"He's got a source for that story he wants to publish, about a ship being mixed up with all the meteors that—why are you rolling your eyes?"

"The meteor shower. Again. Still. Some more. Why can't you just let it go? Think, 'Oh, that really sucked, it really affected my life in a profound way, and now I can move on'? Because you keep obsessing, and between that and your little temple in that back room with the pitiful code key 'security measures,' you're starting to scare me."

"I really need to not let you loose in this house."

"There's no way to keep me out, Bumps. So please don't tell me you bought the story with the alien spaceship. I mean, did the guy say it was out in a corn field, secretly sending out microwaves to poison the minds of human children?"

"No, he said—he said he saw it land, but when he went to the spot, the ship had disappeared."

"Really."

"Stranger things have happened."

"In this very town, even. So what are you saying, some local farmer stole the spaceship from the field and is hiding it in their storm shelter? That's..  really, really stupid."

"It's not stupid, it's just—it's stupid, yes. But the field where the man saw it land is near the Kents' farm."

"So now you think the Kents are actually an alien family, trying to fit in with the plaid and the gingham? Although I grant you, they are a suspiciously good-looking family."

"You know, the longer I talk to you about this, the dumber I feel."

"Have some popcorn."

"It's completely carbonized."

"Okay, so you like your marshmallows _en flamb_ but you get picky about popcorn?"

"Well—yes. I do."

"Shut up and watch the movie."

"Hey, would you like to—"

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm going to—"

"No. No, no, no. No, I will not see if this guy, whoever he is—"

"Edward Cole Jr., previously licensed pilot—"

"Whoever he is, I'm not doing squat about it. I'm tired, and it's almost time for my finals to start, and I don't have to deal with this. I came here, specifically at your request, I might add, this weekend, in order to get away from all the pressure of my academic—"

"Hey, isn't your prom coming up?"

"What?"

"Your prom. Senior prom, it's something that public schools—"

"I'm not at a public school—"

"—do, and I was wondering when yours was."

"What do you know?"

"Let's just say I was interested to see where you were using your credit cards yesterday. No less than seventeen boutiques, and eighteen separate purchases."

"I was distracted by something shiny in Armani's."

"So. Your prom is coming up."

"Why, you want to be one of the chaperones?"

"Is that allowed?"

"You look so excited, maybe you should go to my prom instead of me. Yes, it's in a couple of weeks. No, you can't chaperone. Yes, I have a date. No, I'm not telling you who it is."

"Oh, give me a little credit. I already know who it is."

"You do not!"

"It's Bruce."

"It..  might not be Bruce. He's a college graduate, he can't possibly be interested in going to some high school senior prom."

"Tell him to wear a normal tux, and not some sort of ruffled monstrosity."

"I think he knows. And I haven't said it's him."

"Uh-huh. You may think he knows, but whenever Alfred isn't around he gets a little crazy with his wardrobe. I'm just warning you."

"Oh, like you should talk. And it might not be Bruce."

"Whatever."

---

_Beep._ "Okay, so it turns out his license wasn't revoked because he was talking about the space ship. Apparently your Mr. Cole has a kind of nosy parker attitude, and while he's dusting he flies close to the houses. I don't know how, but he claims he saw two fairly prominent citizens of Smallville in flagrante delecto, which sounds a lot dirtier than what it really means, but what _I_ mean is that they were having sexual relations, so maybe it's just as dirty as what it means. Anyway, he saw that a few weeks before the meteor shower, and he told the respective partners of the delecto-ing people, and then he lost his license because they were people you don't want to piss off, I guess. Didn't have anything to do with the space ship, which means—and I realize that I am being an enabler by saying this—that maybe he was telling the truth about seeing something. Maybe. Anyway. That's all the research I'm doing, nothing more. And you were right, I had to tell..  the guy who's taking me on this prom thing, not necessarily Bruce—anyway, he showed me his tux today and I almost cried. So Alfred's taking over. I mean, maybe it's not Alfred—this guy might not even have a butler! Crap. I'm getting as bad as you about being stealthy. Bye."

---

"Hello?"

"He gave back the money."

"Did you at least Clark in public?"

"No."

"Damn."

"I was just doing some soil testing on a potential real estate purchase, and—"

"It was the land where Edgar Allen Coe said the spaceship landed."

Silence.

"I think all my time in Smallville is turning me into a psychic."

"Are you sure that's the right word?"

"Shut up. So he didn't want you to test the soil on a piece of land that he doesn't own and doesn't have anything to do with him, and he freaked out and gave you back the check?"

"Yes."

"Well, at least he didn't rip it up in front of you while singing 'Can't Buy Me Love' or something."

"I think you just gave me a mental image that will actually cause brain damage."

"So what did you find out?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the soil samples. What did you find out?"

"Oh. I'm having some people look at it."

"I see."

"What?"

"What what?"

"You have a suspicious tone in your voice."

"Oh, for God's—"

"What is it?"

"I just think, you know, that maybe—just maybe—you ought to think about just, you know..  talking to Clark, about all of this. I mean, you keep doing these really weird things. Did you ever think that maybe if you just said, 'Look, I know something's going on, and I feel like every time you lie to my I die a little on the inside because I'm madly in love with you—'"

"Well, I'm not going to say _that._"

"Okay, some variation of that. Just talk to him and quit having all of these roundabout metaphoric conversations that never go anywhere."

"I'll think about it."

"Please. Because I am too young to be a supporting actor in your little soap opera."

"Understood. I've got to go."

"All right. Tell me when you get the results."

"I thought you wanted me to stop this obsessive little thing I have."

"Yeah, but just in case Clark really is the son of alien parents or the Second Coming..  hee, second coming—"

"Lilly—"

"I want to know about it."

"Fine. Bye."

"Bye."


	22. Tempest

**Tempest**

"What the hell just happened?"

"Um. Hello to you too, Lex. What time is it?"

"Please tell me you didn't know anything about this."

"Anything about what?"

"Dad! He just closed the plant!"

"_What?_ Ow."

"That was my general reaction. The first part, anyway. Where are you?"

"On my way down. We'll figure something out. Just give me—I'll be there as fast as I can, okay?"

&&&

"Hey, jackass."

"What did I do in the past hour and a half to merit a jackass?"

"Guess where I am."

"I sincerely hope not the Wayne Manor."

"Shut up."

"How many guesses do I get?"

"I'm in front of the Talon."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that. 'Congrats Grads. Now what.' Is that directed at anyone in particular?"

"Well, I thought you needed to see it in black and white."

"And improperly punctuated?"

"That's not my fault. I just asked Lana—sorry, Miss Lang—if she would put up the sign."

"Well, Lana Sorry Miss Lang can't afford a billboard question mark, apparently."

"Why are you there in the first place?"

"I was just driving past and saw it."

"Mmm. Get me a cappuccino while you're just driving past."

"Fine."

"I can't believe that while I'm having an economic and mental breakdown, you're pausing to get a coffee."

"You've been having a mental breakdown ever since you were in short pants. And it's a mocha, not a cofee."

"Just get over here."

"I'm coming up the driveway."

"What about my cappuccino?"

"I already got it. What do you take me for?"

"Someone who isn't that considerate."

"There's a thank you somewhere in there, I just know it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Hey, could your car take up any more space?"

"The garage is three hundred feet across, Lilly. Find another place to park."

"But I want to be close to the door."

"Have somebody valet park it."

"This is your house, not the Hilton. I'm not valet parking." Pause. "So—thanks, Enrique—what exactly was your reasoning for the billboard?"

"I thought that perhaps you ought to reconsider your plans to waste the entire summer sunning yourself on Bruce Wayne's pool deck."

"So far there're no better alternatives. Hi, there."

"Hi. You can put down the cell phone now."

"You look awful."

"I feel worse."

"Hard to imagine. Here's the cappucchino—wait, _this_ one's the cappuccino. So, Dad screwed you over."

"Yes."

"Well." Pause. "You've still got the Talon."

"That's not as comforting as you think it is."

"That wasn't meant to be comforting. What do you want to do?"

"I don't want these people to lose their jobs."

"Wait. Do you not want these people to lose their jobs, or do you not want them to think you're responsible for them losing their jobs?"

"You still think this is about me winning a popularity contest?"

"Is it?"

"No."

"Okay. Well, then, what do you want to do?"

"First, I have to figure out what Dad plans to do with the plant instead."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if he shuts it down, is he going to sell it, destroy it, leave it vacant? What about the supplies and things that are here already?"

"What does it matter?"

"It lets us know who we'll be dealing with. If he's selling, I have a chance at convincing the new owners to rehire the employees."

"What if they use the plant for something else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what if they decide to use the plant as a... I dunno, a different kind of plant?"

"Doesn't make sense. It'd be like using a piece of prime Metropolis real estate and turning it into a park. This location and plant is ideally situated, anyone who buys isn't going to tear it down and make—"

"A park."

"Exactly."

"Okay. What's the second option?"

"Buying the plant myself."

"What's the third option?"

"I'm serious."

"Unless you've got a map to the treasure of the Sierra Madre, I don't see how you've got the cash to do that."

"I don't. But _we_ do."

Pause. "Oh, no."

"It could work. There's enough there, we're both of age."

"Barely! And some of that was supposed to be for my college education."

"Lilly, she left us fifty million dollars each. You could buy a _college_, if you wanted to."

"We weren't going to use that money until we—"

"I think that maybe we should move up our schedule. He's not going to stop unless I fight back, and fight like he does."

"Fight dirty, you mean."

Silence.

"Let me think about this, okay? I mean, you're... you really think that this plant is worth it?"

"Of course it's worth it. Smallville wouldn't exist without this business. I can't just turn a blind eye to this."

"Lex, I know you love this place. I like it, too, I love the... fields of corn and the nice farmers and I really like Clark, but is he—"

"This _isn't _about_ Clark_."

"Then what is it about? Beating Dad?"

"It's about not letting him beat me."

Silence. "All right. Okay, I'll do it."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that."

"You're not going to go back to Metropolis and plot some evil scheme with Dad?"

"Yeah, because what this family really needs is another sociopath plotting revenge on various family members."

"Shut up."

"You shut up. What do we do now?"

"We plot."

"Dammit. I knew I should have worn jeans."

&&&  
  
"...And that should cover the intial holdings, which we'll transfer into an account offshores just long enough to..." Pause. "Lilly? Lilly, are you asleep, or are you just being funny?" Pause. "Lilly?"

_Thud._ "What! I'm up. What?"

"You were passed out on my flow charts."

"That's gross, dude. Hey, your dictionary's on the floor."

"Nicely spotted. You fell asleep?"

"Um."

"We're plotting, and you fall asleep."

"Well, you seemed to have it pretty well in hand. And once you started saying things like 'subsidiary,' I felt the coma kicking in."

"Next time I'm going to put speed in your coffee."

"You do that." Ring. "Something's ringing."

"I think it's your butt."

"Heh. Hold on." Pause. "Oh, crap... hey, Dad."

"Oh, God."

"Um, nothing." Pause. "Yeah, still at Anna's." Pause. "Um, no. Why?"

"This is the single most painful thing I've ever—"

"Dad? Hold on... Listen, if you want me to break a cue over your head, I totally will, but if you don't, then shut _up_ and let me finish talking."

"All right, fine."

"Thank you...yeah, what?" Pause. "Why did you do that? I mean, he was doing really well! He liked it out here. Out there. I know it's the ass-end of nowhere, but come on, Dad; he's just trying to get his issues worked out." Pause. "Well, _I'm _a Luthor and _I've_ got issues and _you_ have the therapy bills to prove it." Pause. "Um, okay, but I don't think that'll solve any—okay, I'll see you when you get back." Pause. "No, that's okay. I wasn't expecting anyone to come anyway. Bye." Pause. "Why are all the men in my life such evil little masterminds who can't budget their time?"

"What did he say?"

"He said that he has to come to Smallville and close a business deal, and that he would be missing graduation."

"Oh. Oh, God, that's happening in—"

"In three hours. I've got to go."

"Why are you going, anyway?"

"Um, valedictorian? Giving the award ceremony speech and all? Listen, I'll talk to you later. Let me know what I need to do in Metropolis, so Dad doesn't twig for a while."

"He'll twig soon enough."

To: 

From: 

Subject: None

**I'm writing this while waiting for the damn, awful, irritating as hell stupid-ass ceremony to finish. The speech went fine, by the way; thanks for that rewrite. And yeah, it _was_ a rewrite—you edit like a surgeon with a hatchet. People applauded, but then I have no idea how many people you and Dad paid to applaud, so maybe that's not the best barometer. I don't recognize the speaker; of course, you're probably planning to take over whatever company he's head of. I wonder if I can just leave, and they can mail me the damn diploma.**

**Dad's probably due to arrive any second. Good luck; try not to pee in your pants. And I wanted to tell you, don't play innocent. He knows you, better than you think he does, because and I'm sorry to say this, you're a lot like him. So do what he thinks he would do in this situation. He wouldn't think you'd come to me, but where else could you get the money? Maybe if he thinks you've tried something that he can head you off on, he'll be whatever that word is you like. Complicit. No, complacent. Compliant? I don't know; this is a very nice little palm pilot but I can't find the thesaurus option.**

**Okay, it looks like they're going to start the roll call. You'd think with Dad's pull, he would have rearranged the alphabet by now so that L comes first, so I'd get my thing and get out of here. Where's the flagrant abuse of power when you really need it?**

"What the fuck is Nixon doing here?"

"What what whaty?"

"Roger. He's back here, he's sniffing around Clark. Again."

"Bumps, listen, as much as I am entertained by the little Gay Soap Opera On The Prarie you've got going with Clark, we actually have real problems right now? Like, Jesus Christ on a popsicle, you want me to do _what_?"

"I explained it in the email. You're the only one I can trust."

"I don't want to move to Gotham!"

"Sure you do. You would've been living there all summer."

"Yeah, to set up a lounge chair on the Wayne Enterprises roof. Not to... I don't even know what DOO stands for."

"Director of Operations."

"You just want to call me a doo-doo, that's what this is."

"That's a fringe benefit."

"I hate you."

"Looks like you'll have to put off all that fun stuff for a little while, Lilly. At least until your big brother's company is out of the red."

"I hate you and I'm going to learn the art of voodoo specifically so I can practice it on you."

"The doo-doo voodoo?"

"I _hate _you."

"Looking forward to it."

"So, wait. Roge is back in town? Why's he interested in Clark?"

"I don't know—but you're right, I can't think about it now. Did you talk to Jeremiah?"

"Yes. He says we can move, fast, if we need to—but we can't just run, we have to sprint out of there. Dad'll have his bloodhounds on us the minute an alarm trips."

"How sure are you that we didn't already trip one?"

"Pretty sure. I'm going to dinner with him tonight, so I'll see if I can—"

"Oh, God."

"What?"

"You're going to dinner? With Dad?"

"What?"

"Lilly, you can't hide anything from Dad. You're terrible at it."

"I can so hide stuff from Dad!"

"You know when he knew about your little tryst with Bruce? About four days before _you _knew."

"Lex—"

"Cancel the dinner, Lilly."

"Look, it's my graduation celebration; after only four days he remembered, so he wants to take me out. It'll look really weird if I say no all of a sudden."

"Tell him you're too hurt and angry that he missed it."

"I'm not like you, Bumps, I actually don't expect people to bend over backwards for me. And if I'm not mad at _you_ for missing my graduation, than I'm sure as hell not going to be mad at Dad."

Pause. "What's that matter with you?"

"It's—Lex, ever since Mom died, I've been the only person in the world who loves both you and Dad. And I'm the only person that you and Dad both love, too. If I do this, if I just... it's hard to choose sides."

"Lilly. You can't back out of this."

"I'm _not_ backing out of this, I'm just having a few—"

"Second thoughts?"

"Regrets. I'll probably never see him again after this."

"Lilly, if he can't forgive you for this, then how much did he love you in the first place?"

"Is that your answer? How much would you have loved me, on Sunday, if I'd said no?"

"I would have still loved you, Lilly. This isn't about—"

"That's all its ever been about." Pause. "Look, just let me have dinner with him. I promise, I won't fuck it up. I just want to be able to have one last meal with him where he actually smiles at me, okay?"

Pause. "All right. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Hey, isn't tonight Clark's prom?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Maybe he needs someone to fix his bowtie."

"If that's some sort of really bad double-entendre, I swear—"

"It wasn't! Although it could have been. C'mon, Lex, you've barely taken a break to pee for a week. Go outside, take a drive, talk to a friend. You'll feel better."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

"Well, I'm willing to bet my trust fund on it. Besides, dude probably needs help with the bowtie. You're the only guy I've ever met who can actually tie one."

"Dad can."

"No he can't. I'm always having to do it for him, his fall apart in about ten seconds. Go on and talk to him."

_Beep. _"Lex, it's me. Listen, Dad's on the rampage. He just—he found out. And if you even think for a second that I told him, I'm going to string you up by your nostrils. I think he got to Jeremiah somehow. Anyway. Um, he's on his way down, and he's going to—I can't tell you what he's gonna do. Just get out of there. Now. _Now._"


End file.
